


Keeping Warm

by Ashlumos1888



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Humor, Anti-Muggle Content, Character Death, Developing Friendships, Ensemble Cast, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gen, Good Slytherins, Harry Potter Next Generation, James Sirius Potter Being an Asshole, Major Original Character(s), Muggle/Wizard Relations, Multi, Slow Burn, Strong Female Characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-04-13 15:46:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 72,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14115636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashlumos1888/pseuds/Ashlumos1888
Summary: They laughed a lot. That's what everyone said when they spoke of the fallen teens. They laughed a lot and they smiled often, and though they are dead now it's important to remember them not just for the cause they died for--though it was a noble one--but for the journey that led them there in the first place.





	1. Prologue

Prologue 

 

"Do you love her?"

 

James blinked. 

 

Did he love her? 

 

A lie, he knew, would save him. As he stood there in the middle of that musty old room opposite the man who had once been his friend--the man who held the wand directed straight as his chest--he knew that his demise was only a spell away. 

 

A spell could change everything. 

 

Yes, he knew a lie would save him, but he also knew that this particular lie would be impossible. To lie would be to give in like his once-friend had. His father had always told him that love was the most important weapon against evil. Only now did James believe him, and understand how foolish he had been for not realising it sooner.

 

How apt it was that now he would never be able to tell his father how right he had been all these years. Just then love was both his weakness and his strength, but most importantly it was his only source of courage.

 

God knew he needed courage right now. 

 

And so James nodded his head, and the other's hand shook. 

 

"She's going to die, you know," he said, his voice hoarse and desperate and worlds away from what it had been at school just one year ago. "You can't save her. You can't save any of them."

 

"No," James agreed, and it nearly killed him to admit. "No, I can't."

 

The wizard looked at him and raised his wand higher, but still the curse didn't come to his lips. 

 

"You can't do it," James realised, but the surge of hope that shook his chest was quickly diminished as the bangs from upstairs grew louder and the screams ( _her_ screams) echoed through the house. 

 

No, his friend couldn't kill him like he had killed Aaron, but the enemies upstairs were perfectly willing. James had given them every reason to be.

 

"I didn't want him to die," the wizard whispered. "Believe me. You should have killed me when you had the chance."

 

That chance had been mere minutes ago, but James didn't regret his decision: when given the choice between taking a life or giving up his own, he would pick the latter every time. It was what Albus would do, after all, and he had long since recognised that his brother was generally right about these sort of things.

 

"You know I'd never," he said at last. "We were friends once."

 

"We're still friends now," pleaded the other. “If you'd just join them--if you'd leave the others… You don't have to die, James.”

 

James nearly laughed--nearly, because the wand was still pointed at his chest, and the screams had all but faded, which could only mean one thing.

 

So there was no cocky grin for James Potter, no clever comment or witty insult as the thumps grew closer and closer. Instead, he stood there and he waited for the spell to come.

 

A spell, after all, could change everything.


	2. The Starting Point

 

The Starting Point

  
  
"Absolutely  _ disgraceful _ behaviour... Couldn't have even waited  _ one night _ to cause trouble... Hadn't even come into the  _ Godforsaken castle _ yet..."   
  
It was an unfortunate start to the year. They all had to admit that. Stood in a solemn line in front of the frightening Professor Hockley's fireplace, the five Gryffindors hung their heads in shame (or just a half-hearted attempt at shame) and awaited their punishment.   
  
A brawl outside the school carriages was never a good way to start the year.   
  
"Miss Flynn," Hockley said at last, her lip curling at the word Flynn, "did you or did you not punch Grace Marshall in the face?"   
  
"Me? No, Professor," Sarah Flynn said innocently, sliding her bruised fist into her pocket. Next to her the boy called Aaron snorted with laughter.   
  
"And you, Mr Peters. Did you happen to notice the cause of the ruckus?"   
  
"No."   
  
"You didn't start the fight?"   
  
"No."   
  
"Or hex off Henry King's fingers?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
"Really?"   
  
"No."   
  
Hockley tilted her head as she evaluated the smirking fifth year. Normally any cheek directed her way would result in an instant detention; however, Aaron Peters seemed to gather detentions with something akin to pride. She let it slide.   
  
"Miss Morgan," she announced instead, turning to the pretty brunette standing unhappily at the end of the line, "you have been made prefect this year, I see. Congratulations."   
  
Alex looked up and although her usually lovely hair was now a mess of tangles and there was a noticeable rip in her robes, she somehow managed to maintain an air of dignity which her four companions lacked.   
  
"Thank you, Professor," she said unenthusiastically.   
  
"So unfortunate," Hockley continued, "that your stretch as prefect should begin like this. It would be such a shame if the events of tonight were to… permanently mar your position. Tell me, Miss Morgan, are you positive that you cannot recall anything from tonight?"   
  
Alex hesitated, and somewhere down the line a boy called James Potter coughed loudly, though it came out soundly oddly like snake.   
  
"No, Professor Hockley," Alex said through gritted teeth. "I don't have anything to say about what happened."

 

* * *

  
(9 hours earlier)

  
  
It started with a lost cat, really. When it all boiled down to it that was the cause of all the upset, the arguments, and the fight. That's how it all began: with Violet Reynolds' lost cat.   
  
September 1st of that year was as chaotic as ever; King's Cross Station was overrun with frantic students and even more frantic parents, lost owl cages and stray trunks, and the piercing cries of mothers bidding goodbye to their darling little eleven year olds for the very first time.   
  
Alex Morgan had travelled to King's Cross station alone that day. Her brother had just graduated from Hogwarts that summer, and she hadn't any other siblings so her parents had elected to stay at home.   
  
Alex didn't mind though. She didn't really mind much about anything at all, mainly because she didn't have anything to mind about. She had a damn near perfect life that was matched by an equally perfect persona. Popular, and clever, and lovely; she'd be the kind of girl that'd be easy to hate if she wasn't so bloody friendly.   
  
Arriving at Platform 9 ¾ at quarter past ten, she left her trunk with one of the platform workers, boarded the train, and sat in one of the empty compartments to patiently await her friends.   
  
It was twenty-five to eleven before any of them showed up. The compartment door slid open and Grace Marshall entered.   
  
"Alex!" she squealed, rushing to hug her best friend. "How are you? How was your summer?"   
  
"Calm down, Grace," laughed Alex, returning the hug. "I saw you last week—you know how my summer's been!"   
  
The two girls sat and chattered, and presently they were joined by their fellow Gryffindor and dorm-mate Martha Ackerly. Just as the clock was approaching eleven and the three girls were wondering where their other friends from Ravenclaw were, there was a knock on the compartment door and it slid open again, revealing two other Gryffindor girls in their year.   
  
Hilary Ash stood there, with her best friend Felicity Parish standing sullenly behind her. Although they shared a dorm with the pair and they all got on reasonably well, Alex and Grace didn't tend to socialise with them much; their presence there was certainly a rarity.   
  
"Hullo," said Hilary cheerfully. "Alright if we sit with you? Most of the compartments are full, and we didn't particularly fancy sitting with some firsties."   
  
Grace pulled a face. "Well, that would be lovely," she began, sticking her nose in the air, "but I'm not sure if we've got the room…"   
  
"Don't be silly, Grace," said Alex with a laugh. "Come in you two, there's plenty of room."   
  
Grace hesitated. "Well, I suppose so…"   
  
"Brilliant," said Hilary, flopping down next to Martha.   
  
"Great," Fliss said grumpily as she perched next to Alex, whipping out the latest edition of The Daily Prophet and immediately sticking her nose in it; it was a well-known fact that Felicity Parish didn't do small talk.   
  
The rest of them exchanged the usual pleasantries whilst waiting for the train to leave; how were their summers, what did they do, did they go away at all? Then Grace peered out the train window, evidently looking for someone on the platform.   
  
"I wonder if Aaron's here yet," she wondered. "Of course he's usually late for things, but he could have come to the platform early with James or Fred…"   
  
"He's here," Martha said. "I saw him when I arrived earlier. He was talking to Violet Reynolds."   
  
"Oh." Grace sat back unhappily. A Gryffindor in their year, resident troublemaker, and best friend of James Potter and Fred Weasley, Grace had long had her eye on Aaron Peters.   
  
"Reckon they'll give you trouble this year Alex?" Hilary asked. "Being prefect and all."   
  
"Oh, I expect so," said Alex wearily. "I'm sure they'll be doing something stupid like setting off Dung-bombs in the train toilets or attacking Bobby Matthews with Stink Pellets already."   
  
Martha said, "I heard that they're planning on turning the school carriages into pumpkins."   
  
"Even more stupid then."   
  
"Oh, I don't know," mused Hilary. "They can be sort of brilliant, can't they, when they don't take it too far."   
  
"But how often does that happen?" said Alex.   
  
"Aaron's wonderful," Grace said, glowing; Fliss mimed vomiting into her newspaper. Just then the train gave a lurch and started forward: they were off.   
  
"Well, what about Fred Weasley then?" Martha asked Alex. "He's had his eye on you for ages."   
  
Alex smiled wryly. "I think that Henry might have something to say about that." Henry King, a Ravenclaw in their year, was Alex's boyfriend of seven months.   
  
"Ah, the great Weasley versus King debate," sighed Hilary. "I prefer Fred myself. A lot more interesting to talk to, I think. Henry's a bit of a bore. Oh, no offence though, Alex."   
  
"None taken," said Alex with amusement.   
  
"Well, I think Henry makes a better boyfriend," Grace announced. "Martha?"   
  
"Oh definitely Henry," she agreed.   
  
They all looked at Fliss.   
  
"They're both stupid," she said without looking up. "But if I had to choice, I guess I'd pick Weasley."   
  
"Ha!" cried Hilary.   
  
"Looks like I've got the deciding vote," Alex noted, smiling. "And since Fred Weasley has been the bane of my existence since third year what with his hexing Henry and asking me out all the time…" ("It's funny," insisted Hilary,"), "I think I'm going to stick with Henry."   
  
"Excellent choice," Grace said approvingly. Hilary opened her mouth to argue but Fliss elbowed her.   
  
"The Flynn's are all roughed up again," Martha commented, gazing out the window. "Sarah's got bruises all over her face. And the younger one, Tom, his arm looks all funny. Odd, isn't it? They always turn up to school like that."   
  
"Not really," sniffed Grace. "You know what kind of family they are, Martha. Nothing more than white trash. They've probably been getting into fights again."   
  
"That's what you think it is?" Hilary asked, eyebrows raised. "Duelling?"   
  
"Well, obviously. What else could it be?"   
  
Fliss glanced up from her paper. "Are you being this stupid on purpose?" she asked bluntly. Graces stared at her, taken aback.   
  
"Excuse me?"   
  
"Never mind it, Grace," said Alex quickly. "Here, do you want a Pumpkin Pasty?"   
  
Grace scowled. "Sarah Flynn's bad news," she insisted. "My father nearly wrote a letter to the school last year. He wants her out of the dormitory. Did you hear that she and that twin of hers got taken to Ministry again over the summer? Stealing, I heard. Father doesn't think that I'm safe living with the likes of the Flynns."   
  
"You're being dramatic. She's really not that bad."   
  
"She's punched me in the face, Alex," Grace pointed out. "Twice."   
  
"Well, yes," Alex admitted. "Although to be fair, Grace, you know you had that last one coming…"   
  
"I did not!"   
  
"Oh, you did," Hilary said mildly. "You called her family a bunch of half-bred scum. Didn't she, Fliss?"   
  
Fliss nodded her head without glancing up from the newspaper and Grace scowled.   
  
"You should be more like Alex here, Grace," Martha said, amused. "Prefect, tutoring first years, and top of the class to boot. An example to us all."   
  
"Oh, Alex isn't completely innocent," Hilary said cheekily. "I remember when she helped James, Aaron and Fred break into Professor Hockley's classroom in second year. Remember, we got all of fourth period off that day."   
  
"I didn't know that!" Grace turned to her best friend with a scowl. "Why didn't I know that, Alex?"   
  
"Um…"   
  
"It's because you're a nark," said Fliss, turning the page of the Prophet. Everyone stopped and stared at her. "What?" she said, defensive. "You are."   
  
"No I'm not!"   
  
"Yes, you are," sang Hilary cheerfully, and it wasn't to be mean exactly (though seeing Grace's cheeks redden was undeniably satisfying) but just because Hilary Ash was simply honest by nature. "Like that time you told Professor Hockley that it was Sarah Flynn who set fire to Bobby Matthews' cloak…"   
  
"Or when you told Professor Longbottom that she threw mooncalf dung at Zoey Zabini…"   
  
"Or when she turned Aaron Peters' hair pink…"   
  
"Yes, yes, alright, we get the picture," Grace interrupted, frowning.   
  
Fliss delicately turned another page. "Gosh, I wonder why she's punched you twice," she said; Alex stifled a giggle.

 

* * *

 

  
  
Sarah Flynn was tall, and skinny, and might have been pretty had life dealt her a kinder hand. Her blonde hair was usually unkempt and tangled, and although she was tanned and had enviable cheekbones, she also had yellowed fingernails and a scrawny look about her, the product of a difficult upbringing.   
  
She had a bruise on her face that morning (which she failed to hide with her brother's snapback) and a nasty cut running up her leg (which was successfully hidden by her tattered jeans). Had Sarah actually attended her lessons the past four years she might have been able to heal these injuries. As it was, the only achievements she had to her name was a number of successfully stolen magical goods sold at very reasonable prices and socking Grace Marshall twice.   
  
That morning as she made her way down the Hogwarts Express in search of her friends she found herself bickering with her brother Chris. It was a bit unfortunate, really, as he was the only one of her four brothers that she actually got on with.   
  
"You're too hard on him, Sar," Chris was saying. "He's thirteen, he's just a fuckin' kid…"   
  
"He's a shit," Sarah retorted; a group of sixth years bustled past them and she pulled the cap lower over her face. "Did you see what he did to Nancy Atwater last term? The girl couldn't fucking write for a week."   
  
"It was an accident," Chris replied patiently. "Tom knows he was a moron, I spoke to him about it…"   
  
"Oh, bet that did a fat load of good…"   
  
"…and he said he was sorry. And I believe him." They'd reached the carriage where their friends were residing and Chris looked at Sarah defiantly. "He's our brother, Sar."   
  
That registered. Sarah and Chris came from a big family, but they loathed most of them with a vengeance. Just that summer their oldest brother Nick had been sent to Azkaban for the murder of a Muggle—a five year stay. They didn't exactly have brothers to spare.   
  
"Tom's crazy," she said after a moment. "He's fuckin' crazy, Chris."   
  
"Yeah, he is," Chris agreed. "He's fuckin' nuts. That's why we've got to look out for him, Sar. You and me, we've got each other. Who's he got? A couple of Slytherins halfwits who can't tell the right way up of a wand. If we don't look out for him he'll start looking to Mike or Nick, and then we'll probably end up with another Flynn in Azkaban. And you shouting at him like you were this morning ain't gonna help that."   
  
He might have said more but it was hard to argue with Sarah just then. Her face looked like a sunset. He felt a stab of guilt every time he saw the bruises blossoming across her face—they'd have a hard time explaining that one to the teachers.   
  
"Aw alright," she said. She could see that Davey, Charlotte, and Edmund had lit up their fags as the smoke was already hazing up the sliding door; for some reason the sight made her feel embarrassed. She turned away.   
  
"C'mon," said Chris. "Let's see the others."   
  
They entered the compartment. Sarah took a seat between Charlotte and Edmund, and Chris sat next to Davey who, upon seeing Sarah, went, "Jesus fucking Christ."   
  
Sarah kicked her legs up onto the seat opposite. "Shut it, Davey."   
  
"What the fuck happened? Your brother do something to you again? Did Mike hit ya—"   
  
"Shut the fuck up, Davey!" Chris half-yelled, and he did (sullenly).   
  
"Good summer, Chris?" Charlotte asked tentatively. He shrugged.   
  
"Yeah, I s'pose. We did some work for Dung over the holidays. That was pretty fun. Followed Mike on a couple of jobs. Oi…" His eyes sparkled and he leaned forward, "Mike's mate, Joe, he gave me some fireworks last week. Not just your standard Weasley fireworks either, proper ones. He got 'em from the NF."   
  
"The NF?" Edmund repeated, impressed. "Sick."   
  
"Oi, Chris," said Davey eagerly, leaning forward, "is it true you and Sarah got taken in to the Ministry again this summer? Is it?"   
  
Sarah and Chris's eyes met for just the briefest of moments before she looked away. Chris answered, "Yeah, we did. Some old bird ratted us out, caught us nicking some robes in Diagon Alley. S'alright though. One of the Aurors, Robards, we know him pretty well now. Gets a bit shirty with us sometimes, but he's alright. Let us off with a warning."   
  
"Again," muttered Sarah.   
  
"How'd you find out anyway?" Chris asked Davey.   
  
"My dad told me," he said importantly. "Said you two were a couple of criminals, he did. I told him you were okay though."   
  
That was all they ever got from Davey. Talk about his father. Michael Corner had been a member of Dumbledore's Army, fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, and now he had a moron for a son. Sarah didn't know much about the man, apart from that he strongly disapproved of his son's choice of friends. She and Chris only ever got glares when they saw him on platform 9 ¾ and they never met up at the Corner house during the summer holidays. Sarah suspected that Mr Corner might have done more to try and separate them, had his son not turned out to be such a disappointment.   
  
It was a tricky situation for Davey: he idolised his father, but he worshipped Chris too.   
  
"Did you hear?" Charlotte said, lobbing her finished cigarette out the train window. "Apparently James Potter and his lot are planning on turning the school carriages into pumpkins."   
  
Everyone looked to Chris.   
  
"Cool," he smiled, and everyone agreed at once.   
  
Apart from Sarah. She just rolled her eyes.

 

* * *

 

  
  
"Apparently we're going to turn the school carriages into pumpkins."   
  
Aaron Peters, a handsome Gryffindor fifth year with curly brown hair and a careless demeanour, entered the compartment (the very last on the train) and flopped onto the seat nearest the door. The other two occupants didn't even glance up as the door slid shut, immersed as they were in a game of Exploding Snap.   
  
"Pumpkins?" The dark-haired wizard called James wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Surely people expect more from us than that."   
  
"You would think," Aaron agreed. "Though I s'pose there's something ironic about it. Cinderella and all that."   
  
"Cinderella? What's that?" asked the final wizard, Fred. He sat up and threw down his cards beside him, accepting that the game was all but over now that their best mate had arrived.   
  
"Never mind." After four years Aaron had learnt that there was little point in trying to explain Muggle things to his Pure-blooded friends. "Oi, Violet Reynolds is looking fit today. Did you see her on the platform earlier?"   
  
"You stay away from Violet Reynolds," Fred ordered. "She was my Potions partner all last year. She's a nice girl."   
  
"Nice?" Aaron wrinkled his nose. "Never seemed particularly nice to me. Stuck up and haughty, I thought. Just my type."   
  
"Absolutely not. I actually like Violet, Aaron, and it'd be nice if we still actually had some female friends left by the end of the year."   
  
"Well, I've left the Gryffindor girls alone," shrugged Aaron. "Can't say more than that. And I'm not that bad."   
  
Fred turned to his cousin. "James," he implored, "help me out here. Tell that useless sack of shit to leave old Reynolds alone."   
  
James Potter was a remarkable sort of boy. He was handsome (not quite as handsome as Aaron, but handsome still) with messy black hair inherited from his father and laughing hazel eyes inherited from his grandfather. When he walked it was with a careless sort of grace and when he spoke everyone around him listened. James was clever, and funny, and confident, and, worst of all, he knew it.   
  
Now, as he lounged by the train window with his feet kicked up on the seat opposite him, he went, "Sorry mate. As long as the girl doesn't become a permanent fixture, I couldn't give a rat's arse."   
  
"Out-voted," Aaron said triumphantly. Fred rolled his eyes.   
  
"So what, none of us are allowed girlfriends?" he inquired. "Bit harsh, that."   
  
"Yeah, what if Morgan finally starts giving Fred the time of day?" Aaron asked.   
  
James considered that. "Alright. Morgan's the exception. Mainly cause I don't think it's very bloody likely."   
  
"She's still with King," Fred said gloomily. "Dickhead."   
  
James and Aaron sympathised whole-heartedly with this.   
  
"Tell you what, mate," said Aaron kindly, "if things don't work out with me and Reynolds, I'll give her to you."   
  
"I don't where to begin with the things that are wrong with that statement."   
  
Just then the compartment door slid open and Sophie Dippet (a Hufflepuff witch in their year) popped her head in.   
  
"Oh… hullo," she squeaked, faltering as she recognised the occupants of the compartment; they looked at her expectantly. "I don't suppose… that is… my friend Violet—Violet Reynolds—she's lost her cat. Big, and fluffy, and, um… white. Have any of you seen it?"   
  
"And that's my cue," said Aaron happily, jumping to his feet. "Sorry, Fred mate, but you can't fight fate." Then to Sophie: "Haven't seen it, Sally, but I'll give you a hand finding it. Lead the way."   
  
Hesitantly: "Um—it's Sophie…"   
  
He waved his hand dismissively. "Whatever."   
  
They left the compartment, Sophie looking rather scared, and James turned to Fred.   
  
"You know," he said thoughtfully, "turning the carriages into pumpkins might not be such a terrible idea…"

 

* * *

 

  
  
By the time the train reached Hogsmeade station the sun had long set and the only source of light to guide the students to the school carriages came from the dim glow of the streetlamps.   
  
Alex walked arm in arm with Grace chattering away. Both were in good spirits, and Alex listened to her friend's gossip quite happily.   
  
"…and I heard as well that James Potter's got his eye on your cousin, Alex, she's in the year below, isn't she? In Ravenclaw. Oh, and Hilary Ash as well—I didn't want to say in front of her, but apparently she slept with Kieran Ratcliffe over the summer!" She paused. "Let's not let those two sit with us again, Alex. I was hoping that Zoey and Clio would join us, but there was no room. Now we won't be able to talk to them until tomorrow."   
  
Alex quite liked Hilary and Fliss but she was in a good mood and didn't want to spoil the Welcoming Feast with an argument, and so she nodded. "Alright, Grace. If you like." Just then she spotted someone in the crowd ahead and smiled. "Hang on, Grace, there's Henry—I should really go and say hello…"   
  
"But Alex, the carriages are nearly here…" However, Alex had already scarpered off. Grace turned to Martha who walked behind, grumbling. "Always running after that damn boyfriend off hers. Of course, he is awfully good-looking, but a girl's got to put her friends first, don't you think?"   
  
Martha replied, bracingly, "Don't worry about it, Grace. Look, maybe we'll even get in a carriage with Aaron—or James?"   
  
Grace brightened considerably at this, but before she could respond Aaron Peters himself appeared, looking somewhat unnatural without Potter and Weasley by his side.   
  
"Hullo, how are you, how was your summer, weather's absolutely fucking awful, right?" he rattled off, barely acknowledging Grace and Martha at all as he looked around the crowd of students. "Listen, neither of you have seen a cat, have you? White, fluffy… Pretty ugly if you ask me—buggar's been missing for a good four hours."   
  
"No," said Grace; she looked quite put out at the lukewarm reception. "I didn't know you had a cat."   
  
"It's Violet's," he replied vaguely. "Reynolds, you know? Usually I don't go for Slytherins, but she's just really—oh God, it's you."   
  
He'd finally registered who it was he was talking to and, with a look of horror that was almost comical, scarpered away leaving behind an embarrassed Grace and Martha.   
  
Sarah Flynn stood nearby and, having seen this exchange, laughed. She had lost Chris and their friends as they'd disembarked from the train and so waited for the carriages alone. Grace heard her and turned red.   
  
"Oh, why don't you go back to your pit, Flynn?" she drawled. "I'm surprised they've even let you back into Hogwarts this year."   
  
"Well, someone's gotta keep you in check, huh Marshall? Who's gonna give you a black eye when you act like a bitch if I'm not around?"   
  
Grace's lip curled and there was a malicious glint in her eye. If Sarah had been a bit wiser, she might have left the pair then. "Don't mind Sarah here, Martha," she said to her companion loudly. "She's probably just in a bad mood. You heard about her brother, didn't you? Hauled off to Azkaban a few weeks ago for cursing a group of Muggles. He killed one, too. They were only seventeen, did you know that? And Nick Flynn's twenty-five. Isn't that right, Sarah?"   
  
The mirth had left Sarah's face leaving it impassive; she gave no response to Grace's question.   
  
"I wonder how long it'll be," she continued on, louder than ever, "before dear Chris joins him? A little low-life like that, I can't imagine it'll be more than a few months… And we all heard about how those two were carted off to the Ministry this summer for stealing…"   
  
It were as though Sarah had no control over her body. Without even thinking she had crossed the ten feet between them, seized Grace's arm, and yanked it hard.   
  
"Want to say that again, Marshall?"   
  
Grace's eyes widened, and she shrank back. "What are you doing? Get your grubby little hands off me!" she cried, scandalised.   
  
"Don't think so," Sarah hissed, only gripping onto her arm tighter, "because let me tell you one thing, I am fucking bored of you. You have a go at my brother one more time and I swear to God…"   
  
However, Sarah never got to finish her threat due to a sudden bang and a streak of light colliding with her wrist. She yelped and jumped back, and Alex Morgan appeared by Grace's shoulder.   
  
"That's enough, Sarah," she said sharply, slipping her wand back into her robes.   
  
Rubbing her arm, Sarah glared furiously at Grace (who was cowering behind Alex). "Shame. I hadn't given Marshall another black eye yet."   
  
She still would.   
  
"I'll dock points," warned Alex. "No fighting or duelling, Sarah, you know that."   
  
"Ah, of fuckin' course." Sarah rolled her eyes. "'Cause Princess Marshall couldn't possibly have said anything to warrant a good hit to the face, the poor little angel."   
  
"We haven't even reached the castle yet, you two. Please, just for one night, can we let this one go?"   
  
It might have ended there, had things worked out differently. Sarah was certainly prepared to 'let this one go' (after all, it certainly wasn't the first time she'd heard slights about her family) and Grace was much more at home with snide remarks and underhand comments than punches and hexes, which was where this exchange was inevitably leading. Thus, it was certainly feasible that both girls would part ways that evening and not meet again until later that night in the girls' dormitories once they had both calmed down.   
  
However, Violet Reynolds had lost her cat that day and so the person probably best at escalating situations popped up once again.   
  
"Hullo!" said Aaron cheerfully. The drizzle had settled in his curls and dampened his school robes; annoyingly it only made him more attractive. "Anyone seen a cat?"   
  
"No!" Grace and Martha cried shrilly. Aaron raised his eyebrows.   
  
"Alright," he went. "Bloody hell. Wasn't asking you two, anyway. Nice hair by the way, Marshall. Drowned rat looks good on you."   
  
"Leave her alone, Aaron," said Alex, her tone harsh. "We haven't seen the cat."   
  
Sarah laughed. "Fuck me, Morgan, don't you ever get bored of defending her?"   
  
"You're hardly innocent, Sarah," snapped Alex, "it wouldn't exactly be the first fight you'd be involved in, after all. And I don't know what you're attacking me for. I haven't done anything!"   
  
"Nah, you're right, Morgan," Aaron replied, rather amused. "I'm sure you were just standing around watching Marshall being a bitch, as per…"   
  
This comment stung Grace quite clearly; her cheeks burnt bright red and tears sprung to her eyes.   
  
"Leave it out, Peters." A new voice entered the fray and Henry King, Alex's Ravenclaw boyfriend, appeared looking decidedly pissed off. "Like you're one to talk, anyway. You and Potter spend half your lives hexing Hufflepuffs and what exactly does your little friend Weasley do about it? Pretend not to notice and let you carry on."   
  
"He's a good lad, isn't he?" Aaron agreed with a sigh. "Don't worry though, he was the one that came up with the idea to put Permanent-Sticking potion on your dorm toilets. Heard you had to get Professor Flitwick to come and unstick your arse cheeks from the seat."   
  
The Ravenclaw went red with embarrassment. "Well, what more can you expect from a bunch of Gryffindors?" he said, rather lamely. "I'm surprised you're even deigning to talk to me. I thought you made a point of not talking to us Ravenclaws."   
  
"King, I doubt you count—Ravenclaws are supposed to be smart, you know."   
  
"Really," said Alex as Sarah snorted with laughter. "Henry, stop getting so angry, you know he's just trying to rile you up."   
  
Henry didn't heed his girlfriend's advice. He pulled out his wand and directed it at Aaron, who regarded it with little more than amusement.   
  
"Really, King?" he asked (or goaded really). "You're going to hex me in front of everyone? Bad example for a prefect to send to all the little kiddos, don't you think? Though believe me, I'm flattered you think I'm worth the detention…"   
  
"Don't tempt me, Peters," Henry snarled. "I reckon you've earned a good hexing. And, to be honest, there's nothing I'd love more than to curse off your…"   
  
"What's this then? Has King finally grown some bollocks?"   
  
"Oh Merlin." Alex heaved an enormous sigh as James Potter and Fred Weasley materialised out of nowhere. They didn't bother getting their wands out either, despite the presence of Henry's.   
  
"Leave it out, Potter," said Henry. "This is between me and Peters."   
  
Fred rolled his eyes. "Ri-ight," he drawled. "And though I'm sure you would do a fine job of cursing off my best mate's unmentionables, realistically I doubt you've got the nerve. So let's save us all five minutes of you standing there with your wand out and James and Aaron making fun of you, and get into a bloody—"   
  
"Aaron, there you are! Did you find..." Violet stopped in surprise and looked around. "Oh. Is there a fight going on?"   
  
"No," said Alex, Grace, and Henry at the same time that Sarah, James, and Aaron chorused, "Yes." Both sides glared at each other.   
  
"Now, now, Morgan, don't be a killjoy," James said. "King, I don't know what you're playing at, you're the only here with your wand out…"   
  
"For Merlin's sake, Henry, put it away," said Alex impatiently. The rain was getting heavier now, and the carriages still hadn't arrived. The crowd of onlookers had swelled considerably in just two minutes, and both Alex and Grace were very aware of the fact, sharing worried looks as the other five continued to bicker.   
  
"Shall we go a get a carriage?" Grace murmured.   
  
Alex nodded. "Good idea."   
  
However, before either of them could slip away there were several loud bangs in the distance, followed by a chorus of screams: the carriages had finally arrived.   
  
Except they weren't carriages.   
  
Inching their way towards the mass of students, with leafy green vines for legs, were dozens of carriage-sized pumpkins. They were scuttling towards them like huge, orange spiders, using their tendrils to trip up unsuspecting students. It would have been an impressive display of magic had it not been so terrifying.   
  
Thinking that she had finally worked out why Aaron had been alone when he'd first shown up, Alex squeezed her eyes shut in horror.   
  
"For God's sake!" Henry swore and turned to the Gryffindor boys. "This was you, wasn't it?!"   
  
"Now, now, King," Aaron tutted as around them younger students ran about in panic and the older students stood and laughed. "Does turning the school carriages into pumpkins sound like something we would do?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
"Oh. Yeah, alright then," shrugged James. "It was us."   
  
Alex stamped her foot. "Oh, of all the stupid things…"   
  
"Bloody idiots…"   
  
"Aw, do one, King…"   
  
"I thought it was funny…"   
  
"Well, you fucking would, wouldn't you Flynn…"   
  
"And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"   
  
"Dickhead…"   
  
"Arsehole!"   
  
It was hard to tell exactly who started the whole thing—whether it was Sarah taking aim at Grace, or one of the boys throwing a spell at Henry—but what was clear was what happened next: one particularly rambunctious pumpkin stuck out it's tendril and tripped up a group of hysterical second years. There was a scream, a shout of fuck, and then—somehow—an all-out brawl.   


 

* * *

 

  
(Professor Hockley's Office)

 

All five Gryffindors kept their eyes firmly on the fire as Professor Hockley's heeled boots clacked across the wooden floor. She came to a stop directly in front of Sarah and whirled around, hands on hips.   
  
"So," she seethed, "none of you will confess what transpired tonight? No-one will answer my questions?!"   
  
"It was confusing, Professor," tried Alex bravely. "There were so many people about, and Pot—someone had hexed the carriages so a lot of the second years were getting themselves all worked up. It was hard to tell exactly what…"   
  
She trailed off as Hockley moved to tower over her. Standing at an impressive six foot four, there were rumours at Hogwarts that there was giantess blood in the Transfiguration professor. She delighted in them.   
  
"Right," she said, a steely glint in her eye. "Punishment. You mark my words, it will be a very long time before any of you little delinquents see the light of—"   
  
"Um—Priscilla?"   
  
A gentle, wonderfully familiar voice came from the doorway, and every student's head snapped up at once. Professor Longbottom stood in the doorway,   
  
Hockley folded her arms. "What do you want, Longbottom?"   
  
"Well, as these students belong to my house," he said with a faint smile, stepping into the room, "I thought that I might take over from here. If you're lucky you might catch the end of the Sorting."   
  
Hockley didn't look like she liked this idea very much but seemed to realise that she had little choice in the matter.   
  
"I—very well. I wish you more success than I had trying to gain anything from these…" she looked at the five Gryffindors and shuddered, and with a final haughty look she withdrew from the room.   
  
The stars themselves cheered.   
  
Longbottom waited until her footsteps had disappeared down the corridor before addressing the group with a faint smile.   
  
"Really boys?" he said. "Term hasn't even started yet. Are you actively trying to turn my hair grey prematurely?"   
  
"In our defence, Neville," said James, "we didn't exactly plan this."   
  
"The carriages were unplanned?"   
  
They didn't have an answer for that and he chuckled. "Alright. I'll say a detention each and ten points apiece from Gryffindor. Quite a lenient punishment, I think." They had to agree. "Alright, get to the feast—and straight to the Hospital Wing afterwards so Hannah can sort you all out.   
  
"Cheers, Nev," Aaron grinned as the five stood up and filtered towards the door.   
  
They had all nearly made it when Longbottom called out: "Sarah? A word?"   
  
She swore inwardly. Almost made it. Slowly she turned and faced her Head of House. He beckoned towards the armchair, that friendly damn smile still on his face.   
  
She hated the way he called her Sarah, not Flynn. He was the only teacher to do that. Like he was her friend or something. The boys and Alex left the office with James and Aaron waving Longbottom a cheerful goodbye, and she sat down. Neville leant against Hockley's desk.   
  
"Those marks on your face, Sarah," he began as the door shut behind Alex, "they weren't done two hours ago."   
  
She gazed at the fire. It was dying down now. The office had grown dimmer. "I s'pose not."   
  
"I'd say maybe a day or two old," he said, his voice faux light. "They must have been caused whilst you were at home." It was the closest he'd ever come to an outright accusation.   
  
"I fell out of a tree," Sarah said automatically. "Yesterday. I was climbing the elm in our garden and I fell. Chris was there. You can ask him. He'll tell you."   
  
"You fell out of a tree?"   
  
"Yeah."   
  
"And landed on your face?"   
  
She said nothing. She was no rat, after all.   
  
Longbottom stood up. He looked at her face, and for the first time that she had seen he looked angry. "Sarah, you have to understand, I can't help you unless you do something. Why let these bullies win? Why endure their torment? Do you think you'll benefit from it? Do you think you'll be the only one to suffer at their hands? I think you know the answer to that. "   
  
But still she said nothing. She just went on sitting there with that God awful look on her face. He had come across thousands of students during his time teaching at Hogwarts. He had never come across any quite like the Flynns. Especially not like this particular Flynn.   
  
"I can help you, Sarah. I know some people, I have friends who can help. At the Ministry…"   
  
"The Ministry?" she laughed, though it was sad and bitter. "Yeah. I've been to the Ministry. Been taken there a few times actually. Reckon I've met some of your friends there." She paused and her voice cracked. "Don't think they liked me very much. Or Chris."   
  
Longbottom softened. "Sarah, you have to understand… these people, they're just doing their jobs. You were taken there for theft, and naturally—"   
  
"People don't spit at you when you walk down Diagon Alley, Sir, do they?" she asked bitterly. "I reckon they buy you drinks when they find out your name at the pub. And your parents were war heroes too, right? A family to be proud of there." She stood up; her bruises shone in the light. "Look, Professor, it's been a damn long day and I'm tired as hell. Can I go now?"   
  
"Not yet," said Longbottom. "There's something else I need to talk to you about, I'm afraid. Your grades, Sarah. You barely passed the year. If I'm being honest with you, it's a miracle you weren't asked to resit fourth year. Professor McGonagall's sat down with your teachers and discussed the situation with them. Some of them barely knew who you were, you'd shown up to so little of their lessons. If you're grades don't improve, then the school will have to take action."   
  
"I don't care about resitting a damn year of school—"   
  
"You misunderstand. You won't be asked to resit the school year. You'll be asked to leave Hogwarts. Between your behaviour at school and your misadventures during the summer, it's been decided that the best course to take would be to expel you. You'd have to go back home."   
  
"Oh." That got her for a second. The air of indifference was gone and she actually looked scared. But it was only for a second, and then the hard edge was back. "Right. Whatever. Is that it?"   
  
Longbottom frowned. "Do you understand what I'm telling you? Because I'm not sure that you do. You're bright, Sarah. All of your teachers have said so. The ones you show up for, that is. You're capable of so much more than what you're setting yourself up for. I need to make sure—do you realise what you're doing?"   
  
"Yeah. Yeah, I do. Is that it?"   
  
He gazed at her for a moment, then nodded sadly. "Yes, I suppose it is. If you ever need any help, Sarah, anything at all… you know where to find me."   
  
Sarah nodded and walked to the door.   
  
"Good night, Sarah."   
  
"Night, Sir."

 

* * *

 

  
  
Sophie Dippet was a nice girl. Nice was actually her defining characteristic. She wasn't particularly bright and her spellwork was ordinary. She had one friend, a Slytherin, but most of her classmates only knew a face and a name. Although she was by no means ugly, she was still rather plain, a reflection of a rather unmemorable personality. She was, however, nice.   
  
She also happened to be Davey Stone's source of entertainment for that afternoon.   
  
It had been nearly two weeks since the brawl by the school carriages and for the most part Hogwarts life had gone on as normal. James, Fred, and Aaron had gone on to receive two more detentions apiece for breaking into and decorating the Ravenclaw Tower with Gryffindor propaganda, Alex continued to reject Fred's ill-advised romantic advances, and Grace Marshall had only just stopped huffing every time she encountered a member of the Flynn family.   
  
It seemed that only Sarah continued to dwell on the events of September 1st. She carried on as usual, of course: she attended just the minority of her lessons, bummed around with Chris and the other by the lake, went to bed as late as possible to avoid any unpleasant encounters with her dorm mates… But still, there was something there, a nagging at the back of her head, an annoying voice humming in her ear. Longbottom's voice.   
  
She brushed it off.   
  
It was a Friday afternoon, and Sarah relaxed around with her friends in the courtyard. Chris was reading a magazine quietly, Charlotte and Edmund played Exploding Snap, and Davey chattered away pretty much to himself, though he peeked at Chris every so often to see if he was listening (which he wasn't).   
  
Sophie was sitting nearby on a bench in the middle of the courtyard. She had some books with her and was scribbling away on some parchment; Sarah figured she was doing an essay or something. Davey noticed her too. He stared at her intently, his hand twitching near his wand every ten seconds or so. Sarah should have realised something was up then.   
  
Eventually, after about an hour, Sophie stood up. She was heading back to the castle. As she began gathering her things together to head back to the castle Davey said quietly, "Hey, watch this," and waved his wand. "Diffindo."   
  
Sophie's bag split open and her books scattered everywhere. The Hufflepuff scrambled around in confusion for her things and Charlotte and Edmund laughed appreciatively. Chris managed a small smile before returning to his magazine.   
  
Davey waited until she had picked up all her possessions before waving his wand again. Sophie's books flew out of her hands and landed in a nearby puddle. That's when Davey started laughing loudly, his unmistakeable piercing bray.   
  
Sophie lifted her head and looked up, tears filling her eyes and her cheeks red with embarrassment as she realised what was happening. Davey continued to cackle; Sarah felt sick.   
  
"Aw, lay off, Davey," she said. He laughed again.   
  
"Yeah, yeah, alright, Sarah. Save the jokes for Herbology, yeah?"   
  
Sophie began picking up her books once more, hands trembling, and Davey waved his wand again. They went flying.   
  
Maybe it was the stress of OWLs, or maybe Longbottom's words had gotten through to her. Maybe Sarah was just generally a bit pissed off. But whatever the reason, she leaned forward, seized Davey's arm, and went, "Hey! I said lay off, you fucking moron!"   
  
Davey stared at her, and in his surprise his wand actually did clatter to the floor. Sophie took her opportunity at once and fled, grabbing her books haphazardly as she went.   
  
"What the hell's with you, ya freak?" he said incredulously.   
  
"S'what I should be saying to you, I reckon," she retorted. "Sophie Dippet, Corner? Not even Potter or Peters would go that far and that's saying fucking something."   
  
Davey sneered at that. "What, best mates with those two pricks now, are you? Joined their fan club or something?"   
  
"Oh, real good one, Davey," Sarah said sarcastically. "Got me there, you fuckin' idiot."   
  
"One of those fucking slags following them about now, aren't you?" he sang out, his eyes glinting with anger. "Dunno what you're doin' here slumming it with us. Whore, whore, whore…"   
  
"Shut up!" Chris said with force, and Davey immediately recoiled. "You shut up, Corner, if you know what's good for you!"   
  
"Chris, I wasn't—look, I didn't mean anything by it. It's just… I mean, come on, Chris, what the fuck's the matter with her?!"   
  
"None of your God damn business, that's what, Davey. Buggar off over there, ya morons. Now."   
  
And because it was Chris, they did. Charlotte, Edmund, and Davey all got up and scarpered over to where some Slytherin's in the year below sat smoking on the other side of the courtyard, and Chris turned to his sister with a frown.   
  
"What's up?"   
  
"Nothing," lied Sarah.   
  
"Bullshit. You can't lie to me, Sar. What's going on?"   
  
Sarah looked at her brother, saw his genuine bewilderment, and for the first time realised that Chris would have absolutely no idea what was going through her head. The confusion, Grace Marshall, Professor fucking Longbottom… No, he would have no idea why any of that actually mattered. And so it seemed that really, there was only one thing to do.   
  
"I—nothing," she said, standing up. "Seriously, it's nothing. Nothing important, anyway. Look, Chris, I gotta go, I'll explain later. See you at dinner, yeah?"   
  
And before Chris could reply she was running off back to the castle, leaving him staring after her completely bewildered.   
  
Oh he was right, bloody Longbottom was fucking right, and as much as it killed her to admit, she needed to sort out this mess now.   
  
A dishwasher in the Hogs Head, selling stolen goods with Mundungus Fletcher, the NF, Azkaban… That was her life, that was her God damn future.   
  
Buggar that.   
  
_ The Flynn's are low-lives, the Flynn's are thieves, the Flynn's are scum… _ _   
_   
She skidded to a halt outside the library and hesitated for only a moment (she had only ever been in there once after all) before entering.   
  
She didn't know how so many students spent so much there sitting there amongst the musty old books. The silence was eerie, almost intimidating, as were the towering bookshelves that threatened to topple over at any moment.   
  
But she carried on sauntering through the stacks until she found the person she was seeking, sitting thankfully alone.   
  
"Hey," Sarah said casually, sliding into the chair opposite the table's occupant, and Alex Morgan lifted her beautiful head. The astonishment was clear in her eyes when she saw whom the voice belonged to.   
  
"Um… hello. Can I help you with something?"   
  
It was really a tribute to the girl's character that there wasn't a hint of bitterness in her tone, Sarah mused. Anyone else would probably be holding a grudge for the incident on the first day of term, but Alex was as polite and friendly as ever.   
  
That was certainly encouraging.   
  
"So here's the thing," said Sarah, leaning forward. "I know I haven't really taken a… well, a serious approach to this whole school thing. Y'know, revising for exams, doing your homework… actually going to lessons. I've fucked up a bit and it's OWL year and—I've just realised that if I want to actually spend my life not working in some shitty little pub, or for Dung Fletcher then I need to do something. I know we're not close and I've punched your best mate a few times so… sorry about that, I guess. But if you've got the time then it'd be really fucking great if you could spend a few hours a week catching me up."   
  
She waited and Alex looked at her blankly, her mouth slightly agape.   
  
"You… want tutoring?" she managed after a moment.   
  
"Right."   
  
"From me? You want tutoring from me?"   
  
"Ye-es. I know it's not ideal but… I mean, you're good at it and you're not a complete bitch which is a nice plus. I s'pose I could've asked Ash but she's not very bright, and I doubt Parish would have to patience for me. And my mates… well, they wouldn't understand. So I guess that leaves you."   
  
"Lucky me," Alex said uncertainly, and Sarah smiled wryly. She didn't seem to be joking, which had been Alex's first thought. She been fairly well-behaved too since the start of term (as far as she could tell anyway) and she had never been particularly nasty to Alex—not unless she was arguing with Grace.   
  
"Ok," she said at last. "I'll do it. I'd be happy to help you out."   
  
"Oh. Great." Sarah blinked, thinking that surely it couldn't be that easy. "Well, I'm free anytime, really, I don't have much going on in the way of clubs or…" but Alex interrupted.   
  
"I have conditions though."   
  
There it was. She eyed her, apprehensive. "Conditions?"   
  
"Yes. You know, if I help you, there's some things that you have to do…"   
  
"Oh, I know what conditions are," Sarah said blithely, pushing herself from the table and tilting her chair onto its back legs. "I'm a thief, not a retard."   
  
For a moment Sarah thought Alex would call the whole thing off. Of course, her careless mouth was always going to be an issue for someone like Alex Morgan, but she had thought she would have lasted a bit longer than thirty seconds. The thick eyebrows were pulled into a frown and her lips were pursed. She regarded Sarah with something akin to frustration and she was obviously thinking with great concentration.   
  
But then something in her expression changed and her face cleared. "Well, you can't say that word anymore, for starters."   
  
Sarah's brow furrowed. "What?"   
  
"Retard," Alex clarified. "You can't say it. It's not nice."   
  
"Oh. Right. Yeah, 'course. Sorry."   
  
"You can't punch Grace anymore. Or hex her. Or… maybe just avoid contact with her if possible."   
  
Sarah nearly laughed. "Yeah, I figured. Anything else?"   
  
"You can't be late."   
  
"'Course not."   
  
"You have to do what I tell you."   
  
"Well that's a bit far…"   
  
"No more skipping lessons."   
  
"Oh, come on, I have double History of Magic on a Friday afternoon…"   
  
"And you definitely can't miss out on any of our meetings." Alex eyed the blonde shrewdly. "I don't think I've seen you in an Astronomy class since second year, and I know you're taking Ancient Runes which is one of the hardest subjects there is. We're going to have to meet at least three times a week to catch you up. You're going to have to be committed to this, Sarah. Do we have a deal?"   
  
Sarah tilted her head as though analysing her and Alex stared back. Oh God, she was going to regret this. Now this was stupid, definitely the stupidest thing she had ever done, and Grace was absolutely not going to stop going on about her incessant need to be a martyr, and oh Merlin Sarah was a bloody Flynn and so she'd probably have about five or six disgruntled family members jumping down her throat as well…   
  
One day in the near future, Sarah Flynn and Alex Morgan would become best friends. Alex would leave her boyfriend and her friends and even her family for the sake of the snarky girl with wild blonde hair, and Sarah would do the same for her (and maybe for three other boys too). But for now, they were little more than strangers, and that friendship was based on one huge gamble.   
  
"Okay," Sarah nodded, and there was a sunny smile on her face. "Deal."


	3. The First Detention

 

 

 

THE FIRST DETENTION

 

**_Is Shacklebolt Slipping?_ **

 

_ It is undeniable that Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt has had a successful run as Minister, overlooking the end of a thirty year long war and a complete reform of the Ministry of Magic. However, it has recently been revealed that after his fourth term, his time as Minister for Magic may be coming to an end.  _

_ Reports of the Minister's ill health has been dogging the Ministry for months, and now, in the early hours of this morning, it has been announced that Shacklebolt is suffering from Diaboli Unicaritus, otherwise known as ‘Devil’s Rot, a potentially fatal disease in intense cases that is most well-known for the severe disfigurement it causes to the face of the sufferer. Whilst insiders confirm that Shacklebolt has only recently been diagnosed with the illness and is not of yet experiencing any severe symptoms, there is no known cure and a full recovery is close to impossible. _

_ It is well acknowledged that Shacklebolt’s promising start as Minister has been overshadowed by the rather bitter last few years that have darkened an otherwise excellent performance. Unhappiness across the nation has been growing for the last decade years, a result, many believe, of a dramatic surge in the magical population. Unemployment rates have been rising rapidly, and more and more Hogwarts students are leaving school over-qualified and jobless; it has long been thought that there is little hope of recapturing the golden years experienced immediately after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's fall by the hands of Harry Potter. _

_ The Ministry have yet to confirm whether Shacklebolt is intending to retain his position as Minister of Magic or resign from his post. A senior Healer from St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries who does not wish to be named says, “Devil’s Rot is a nasty disease indeed. Although some cases can be minor most sufferers tend to experience extreme fatigue, migraines, and vomiting; intense flu-like symptoms. The average life expectancy of an individual with Devil Rot is usually around six or seven years. In my professional opinion, it doesn’t seem at all likely that Shacklebolt will be able to act as Minister for much longer, even if the disease is still in its early stages.”  _

_ Considering the particularly taxing nature of the job at the present climate. a resignation from Shacklebolt seems imminent, and so the question remains: how long will Shacklebolt be able to hold on for and who will be his replacement? _

 

From where he sat in his roomy Head Auror’s office, Harry Potter scrunched up that morning’s edition of the Daily Prophet and threw it across the room. 

 

“Bollocks! Savage, send a memo to Kingsley! Now!” 

 

It was going to be one of those days. 

 

* * *

 

_ Alexandra, _

 

_ I hope that you are well and that you're enjoying your first week of school. The first week back is a very important start for the year ahead, as I’m sure you are aware, so make sure you don't waste anytime slacking.  _

 

_ I’m sure that you’ll be delighted to hear that your brother has finally secured a permanent position within your father’s office at the Ministry. Of course I never thought for a moment that Paul would find himself caught up in this ghastly unemployment business _ _ — _ _ terrible as I’m sure it is for all those poor youths affected _ — _ but it’s comforting nevertheless to know that he’ll be continuing in your father’s footsteps. Your grandfather is terribly proud of him.  _

 

_ Now darling, you’re probably wondering why I’m writing to you so soon after you’ve left; Priscilla Hockley wrote to us last night and informed us that, despite our constant warnings, you are still associating yourself with the Flynn girl. Whilst your father and I realise that as you share a dormitory with the girl you have to have some level of contact, it is absolutely vital that your name is not connected with that of a Flynn. You have been told time and time again that she is nothing but a troublemaker, and judging from the stories that we’ve heard over the summer those rumours have not stemmed from nothing. _

 

_ I admire your efforts to help the unprivileged Alexandra, I really do, but this foolishness must end. Your actions affect not only yourself but the Morgan name and, by extension, the Fawley name too; you will eventually have to choose between your loyalty to your family and that to your little friend, and the outcome is obvious. Let’s not waste time and energy over petty squabbling and damage any familial relationships needlessly. Think about your future.  _

 

_ Stay safe darling, and for the love of Merlin stay out of trouble. _

 

_ Clarissa Morgan _

  
  


“You know,” mused Alex as she gazed up at the September sun, “there may actually be something to this skipping class business.” 

 

Sarah tilted her head up at her and grinned. “Morgan, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

 

The two girls both sat under the beech tree by the lake, the letter from Alex’s mother — having already briefly been laughed at — lying forgotten between them.

 

“Sixth year,” mused Alex. “Do you think NEWTs are going to be as difficult as people say? Bethany Dearborn told me that her friend Anita fainted three times from the stress.”

 

Sarah groaned. “They can’t be worse than OWLs and if they are I’ll kill myself.”

 

It had been a hard year. OWLs had not been kind to Sarah. There had been nights where they stayed up until three in the morning, waiting for Sarah to get the hang of second year magic before they could even begin to start on OWL level stuff. She had spent four years skiving off lessons, and her wand had barely been used. There was a price to be paid for that, and the sheer size of it had nearly left Sarah defeated. 

 

Before she could learn practical magic she had to learn the theories behind the spells, Potion and Transfiguration laws, the basics of first and second year magic. There had been countless times when Sarah had thrown her books at the wall in her fury at herself and stormed from the library in angry tears, with cries of outrage from Madame Pince. She had always come back though, and Alex had always waited patiently for her to return. For the first six months it had been something of a routine. 

 

It wasn’t just the schoolwork either. Both girls had to endure mockery from their friends, families, even the bloody  _ teachers _ . As well as the daily lectures from Grace and Henry on affiliating herself with a girl  _ like that _ , Alex also received letters from her parents and grandfather warning her to stay away from that awful Flynn girl.

 

It was grating, but it was nothing compared to what happened to Sarah. 

 

It had been the last night of the Christmas holidays. Sarah had managed to keep her tutoring secret for four whole months, destroying her term reports and keeping her slowly improving grades hidden so as to avoid the wrath of her family.

 

Chris kept her secret. Tom didn’t.

 

Mike had beaten the shit out of her and her father had broken a glass bottle over her head. Alex thought she was going to burst into tears when Sarah had come limping over to her at the train station the next day, that God awful smile still on her face. 

 

They’d done it though. Despite everything — their families, the workload, their friends — they’d  _ done  _ it. Alex had received mostly E’s with a few O grades thrown in there too (only James Potter and Aaron Peters had beaten her in their house) and Sarah had come out with 3 E’s and 6 A’s to her name. The only person prouder than Sarah herself was Alex. 

 

They had gone into sixth slightly unsure of each other, the definition of their relationship something of a mystery. Sarah had passed her OWLs and it seemed as though Alex’s job was done, and whilst they were certainly more than acquaintances, they weren’t exactly friends. But then one night a few days into the school year Alex had approached Sarah in the common room (they had barely spoken to each other since the start of term) and asked how she was getting on with the Potions essay. Sarah hadn’t needed her help (not really, anyway) but the two girls had settled down and done it together anyway. 

 

Now it was a week later and they were both sat out underneath the clouding sky without a single piece of schoolwork in sight. 

 

Alex looked up to the sky and sighed. “It's going to rain. I said I’d meet Maya later to help her practice for Quidditch tryouts, but it’ll be awful if it’s all wet.”

 

“So sack it,” said Sarah lazily. “I'm sure Fawley will console herself with Potter.”

 

Alex couldn't argue with her there. Maya Fawley, popular Ravenclaw fifth year and Alex’s cousin, had been on and off with James Potter for about a year now. 

 

“I don’t think he’d be particularly happy to be helping out the Ravenclaw team though,” she pointed out vaguely. “She’s trying out for Chaser on Friday.”

 

Sarah snorted. “I’m surprised Potter’s letting King get try-outs in before him. Gryffindor’s aren’t ‘til Saturday.” Then she groaned loudly. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that, should I? Before you say it, no, I am  _ not  _ trying out for the Goddamn team!”

 

“You know, one day you and I are going to have a conversation and you’re not going to swear at all,” Alex sighed, staring dreamily into the distance. 

 

“I’m not joining that fucking team, Alex ...”

 

“Yes, you’ve made that perfectly clear…”

 

“You know I’d never actually make it, anyway…”

 

“I don’t know that actually, since neither of us have a clue if you’d make it or not unless you  _ try _ …”

 

It had been like this for days, ever since Alex had found out that Peter Button was dropping Quidditch to focus on NEWTs and Sarah was unwise enough to mention that she played.

 

“Consider it,” Alex pressed. “Okay? Just  _ consider  _ it.”

 

Sarah relented. “Oh  _ fine _ . But I’m not happy about it. Why d’you care so much if I try out for the team anyway?”

 

“I think it’d be good for you. It would look good on your applications, and you could make some friends…”

 

“Oh thank you, Mum,” said Sarah sarcastically. “Why does Maya want you to help her anyway? No offence, Al, but you know fuck-all about Quidditch.”

 

“Very true,” Alex said cheerfully. “But her only other option is Dominique Weasley, and she knows even less than I do.”

 

“Mmm. And I s’pose she’s a complete psychopath too.”

 

“Dominique is not a psychopath!” said Alex. “She’s just a bit… aggressive.”

 

“Yeah, whatever,” Sarah grinned. “You still don’t like her.” 

 

“I do like her…” 

 

“You fucking don’t.”

 

“Do!” 

 

“Don’t.”

 

“Oh, you’re insufferable. Fine, I think she’s annoying. Happy?” Alex paused for a moment and sighed. “God, maybe I will sack it. Henry wanted to do something this afternoon and I haven’t seen him all week.”

 

“Ah. And what would you be doing with the honourable Henry King? Doing homework? Prefect patrols? Or is he in a particularly exciting mood and wants to take you to watch paint dry?”

 

“Oh, hush,” Alex scolded, shoving her. “You know, it would be just wonderful if you would try and actually get to know him.”

 

Sarah pulled a face. “Sounds horrific. ‘Sides, Al, I don’t think the boy wants to get to know me. Actually, I think he actively tries to avoid having  _ anything  _ to do with me

 

“That’s not true,” Alex started to say, but relented at Sarah’s expression. “Oh alright. You know that you’re the bane of my existence, right?”

 

“I’m the bane of a lot of people’s existences. It’s something of a specialty.”

 

Alex rolled her eyes and stood up. “Right, I’m off. I’ve got Arithmancy in ten. What have you got?”

 

Sarah sighed, stretching out. “Muggle Studies. Think I might ditch, y’know…”

 

“ _ Go _ , Sarah. It’s only Muggle Studies,” said Alex firmly as she slung her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll see you at eight.”

 

“See ya at eight.”

 

* * *

 

Despite Sarah's grumblings about the lesson and the popularity of dismissing Muggle Studies as a worthy subject, she didn't actually mind it that much. The lessons were generally easy (especially since her mother was a Muggle) and the teacher, Professor Casimir Artemis, was usually good for a laugh. 

 

It was with a wary sort of air that he regarded his new sixth year class. They had always been a source of bother for him, ever since their third year. Whilst most of the snobby Ravenclaws had dropped it now that OWLs were done, one or two still remained; Davey Corner and his associates were amongst the most insufferable buffoons he had ever come across, the group of Slytherins delighted in mocking both him and his subject, and whilst Flynn could be quite funny with her dry wit and general disdain for everyone in the class, she was also rather fond of riling up the Ravenclaws and Slytherins. And really that just left a group of gossiping Hufflepuff girls and Liam Pipps, the only other Gryffindor to take Muggle Studies and quiet as a mouse.

 

He supposed he should just be grateful that James Potter and his cronies hadn’t picked it up; he had heard stories about those three from his colleagues, and the thought of having to deal with them positively sent shivers down his spine.

 

“Take a seat, Flynn,” he said as she sauntered in fifteen minutes late as though she bloody owned the place. “Quickly, please. We’re working on art and literature today.”

 

She pulled a face at him as she slumped into the seat next to Charlotte Harvey; he couldn’t blame her for her lack of enthusiasm. 

 

“Hang on,” said Bruce Warrington loudly, “how come she doesn’t get in any trouble? When I was late last week you gave me a detention!”

 

“Yes, well,” said Artemis. The honest answer was that he didn’t like Warrington, although he could hardly say  _ that _ . “Your excuse for being late was being hungover, Warrington. I’m sure Flynn has a good excuse.”

 

He looked at her expectantly and, startled, she went, “Oh. Yeah. Well, I was planning on ditching, but I was on my way back to the common room and I ran into Mrs Norris so I thought I’d have a bit of fun and trap her in a suit of armour. Thing is, I was halfway through and I heard Filch coming and this was about one corridor down from here, so I figured even  _ this  _ was better than detention with that tosser.”

 

“Really?  _ I  _ would have taken the detention with Filch,” drawled Augustus Smith of Slytherin. 

 

“Don’t be stupid, she would have been caught stuffing Mrs Norris into a suit of armour,” argued his housemate Tilda Waltham. “Filch  _ loves  _ that damn cat. She would have had to clean the boys toilets without magic or something horrific—even I’d rather sit through Muggle Studies.”

Tilda gave Sarah an approving nod, and Casimir Artemis stood there wondering what exactly it was he’d done to gain such a lack of respect from his students.

 

“Yes, well… art and literature,” he said dully. “I’ve got some famous paintings here from Muggle history—just copies, of course, but you get the idea—see here, some portraits of notable figures…”

 

“But Sir,” said Belinda Trimble, looking very confused as she stared at the large portrait of an old Muggle woman that he was holding up for the class, “they're not moving.” 

 

Warrington guffawed loudly. “Jesus, Trimble, you can't be  _ that  _ thick—”

 

“Shut up, Warrington,” said Tilda sharply.

 

“But, I mean, come on, Belinda,” said Sarah, fairly. “If even  _ Warrington  _ can tell the difference between Muggle and magical paintings…” 

 

“Oh, you better watch it, Flynn…” 

 

“Enough!” God, the last thing he felt dealing with then was another one of Flynn and Warrington’s fights. McGonagall would never let him hear the end of it. “Waltham and Warrington, settle down; Flynn stop pissing everyone off, I know your damn game… And yes, Trimble, they’re Muggle paintings—they’re not  _ supposed  _ to move.”

 

“ _ Wow _ ,” said Belinda. A quick glance told Casimir that she wasn’t even being sarcastic and left him wondering how on earth the girl was Sorted into Ravenclaw. 

 

The next few minutes passed relatively peacefully for his sixth years. He handed out some copies of the paintings and there wasn’t a single snarky remark or jibe; Belinda managed to make it through all of Monet’s water lilies without making a stupid comment and the Ravenclaws managed to reign in their air of superiority. 

 

Then he got to the painting of the Scream.  

 

“Warrington, is that what your mum looked like when she first saw your face?” Sarah asked, pointing at the painting. The class erupted with laughter and a red-faced Bruce jumped to his feet. 

 

“Oh, you asked for it, Flynn!”

 

Perhaps Artie should have been more worried at the prospect of a brawl in his classroom, but he had feeling it wasn’t a cause for concern — Flynn was usually too quick for the lumbering Slytherin. Sure enough, as Bruce lunged across the desks for her, she stuck out her leg with an innocent, “ _ Whoopsy daisy.”  _

 

Bruce went sprawling to the floor with a great thud, and Professor Artemis said lazily, “Oh, dear me, Bruce, you  _ are  _ clumsy. Back to your seat.”

 

“Are you fucking  _ joking _ ?” Bruce said furiously as he clambered to his feet, embarrassed that his classmates were once again laughing at him; Sarah was looking so demure it were as though a halo would appear above her head at any moment. “She did that on purpose!”

 

“No, it was an accident. You heard her say whoopsy daisy.” Artie turned to the rest of the class. “Didn’t you all hear her say whoopsy daisy?” The class attested that they had, all wearing identical wicked smiles. “Wonderful. Now sit down, Warrington. You interrupted my analysis of the Scream.”   

 

Artie went on with his lecture and Sarah eyed Bruce up as he glared at her across the room. She was already regretting her words. God, what was she doing? The last thing she needed right now was to get into trouble, and judging from Bruce’s expression he didn’t have any intention of letting it go.

 

The Slytherin continued to throw dark looks her way, and when the bell rang at the end of the lesson Sarah acted quickly.

 

“Let’s go,” she muttered to Charlotte, grabbing her things and shoving them into her bag: she wasn’t scared of Warrington, but she certainly didn’t want any trouble and she didn’t like the dark looks he was throwing her way. 

 

Charlotte happily complied and the two left the classroom quickly; however, the in between class traffic meant that a speedy getaway was impossible, and so they had only reached the end of the corridor before the Slytherin had caught up with them.

 

“Oi, Flynn!”

 

“Great,” she sighed, before turning around and facing Warrington. “I’d love to stay and chat, Bruce, but unfortunately I've got to go and meet my brother. You know Chris, right? Tall, angry, a lot of friends with multiple arrests…”

 

“Nice try,” he snarled, “but don't think you can get away with your smart-arse mouth just cause of your family. I'm not scared of your brother.” 

 

“That's weird,” Sarah replied, ignoring Charlotte’s desperate tugs on her arm, “ _ I  _ would be. After all, you got what, three OWLs? Hardly something that leaves people quaking in their shoes, Brucey.”

 

He took a step forward but Sarah stayed where she was. By now a large crowd had formed, the anticipation of a fight too much for the students to care much if they were late for their next lesson or not.

 

“Oh yeah? And what about  _ you _ , Flynn?”

 

Sarah folded her arms. “Me? I  _ passed  _ my exams, Warrington, so unless you’re trying to make some sort of insult from actually doing well in life, I don’t really see what the fuck you’re talking about.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, save the self-righteous moral shit for Morgan. She  _ is  _ the only reason they didn’t kick you out of this place, right?” He smirked and glanced at his companion, fellow Slytherin Nathaniel Hynes. “Nice arse on that one, wouldn’t you say Nathaniel? Wouldn’t mind taking her to the next Hogsmeade trip, find a nice alleyway —a nd it’s  _ always  _ the innocent one that are into the weird shit...”

 

Oh dear. Even Charlotte heaved wearily as she realised the consequence of his words. Warrington could have insulted anyone else and Sarah could probably have let it slide. Not Alex Morgan though.

 

And so, as Bruce continued on describing the various things he’d like to do to Alex, Sarah weighed her options. Firstly, she could  _ not  _ punch Warrington. She could simply walk away and ignore everything he’d ever said about Alex.

 

_ ‘That Flynn girl’s nothing but a troublemaker…’  _

 

She might even be able to make it until the end of Hogwarts without getting any more detentions. 

 

_ ‘...judging from the stories that we’ve heard those rumours have not stemmed from nothing…’ _

 

Yes, walking away would definitely be the sensible thing to do.

 

If only Sarah did sensible things.

 

There was a significant  _ crunch  _ as Sarah’s hand collided with Warrington’s hefty jaw; he staggered backwards (more out of shock than anything), several onlookers started cheering, and somewhere further down the corridor a voice screeched: “ _ SARAH FLYNN _ !”

 

It was astounding the effect that Priscilla Hockley’s voice had on Hogwarts students. Everyone bar Sarah and Warrington scattered as the latter clutched his nose and the former considered just how fucking unlucky it was that after not punching anyone for a whole God damn  _ year _ her altercation with Warrington had to be witnessed by Professor fucking Hockley.  

 

The Transfiguration professor approached with immense satisfaction as students darted out of her path, her beady little eyes taking in the full scene of Bruce Warrington covering his bloodied face and Sarah standing there looking completely unconcerned.

 

“Oh stop whining,” she went, a little disgustedly. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”

 

“What on  _ earth  _ is going on here?” Hockley thundered.

 

“It was her,” said Warrington stupidly, pointing at Sarah who rolled her eyes. 

 

“Yeah, I think she  _ got _ that, you stupid fuck — ”

 

“Language!” hissed Hockley, scandalised. “Warrington, get to the Hospital Wing. Stop moaning, boy, Abbott will clean you up well enough. Flynn…” She took a step forwards so that she towered over the girl, relishing the way that Sarah flinched, the wary look in her eyes. “Fifty points from Gryffindor and  _ detention _ . My classroom at eight o’clock.”

 

* * *

 

By break time the storm had broken, and Hogwarts was darkened by crashes of thunder and furious black clouds. Students unfortunate enough to be spending the morning in Herbology or Care of Magical Creatures howled as they made a mad dash for the castle, and Filch despaired over the muddy floors he would have to clean once the students were back in their classrooms; however, the rain that lashed against the enormous windows did nothing to dispel the laughter that rang through the fourth floor corridor.

 

As Fred Weasley and hoards of other students looked on in amusement, James Potter and Aaron Peters proceeded to transfigure and charm a statue of Boris the Bewildered and one of Timothy the Timid into wrestling, with James in control of Boris and Aaron bewitching Timothy. Even Felicity Parish had to admit that it was impressive magic.

 

Really they were supposed to be in an unused classroom somewhere as they weren’t allowed outside, but James and Aaron had gotten distracted along the way and decided that they wanted to stay in the corridor. It wasn’t a particularly interesting corridor and the other students had only arrived  _ after  _ they had made the decision to spend their break there, but there was something irresistible to the boys about being somewhere they shouldn’t. Even if it was just a fourth floor corridor. 

 

The show, Fred mused, was the same as it always was: Aaron was trying to impress a girl (Tilda Waltham. this time), he himself stood back, watching and laughing and occasionally restraining, and James was the star, leaping about and showing off, making the watching students laugh...

 

It was a damn good show.

 

“Oh c’mon, Potsy, my nan could do better than that,” Aaron taunted as the Boris statue made a clumsy lunge towards Timothy and crashed into the wall. “She’s  _ ninety,  _ by the way… and a Muggle.”

 

James had to duck as a punch from Timothy missed Boris and nearly hit him full in the face.

 

“Oh,  _ that  _ was a foul, Peters-- ”

 

“How can it be a foul when there aren’t any rules, Potter…” 

 

“ _ Foul, foul, foul… _ ” 

 

“Really witty, James, well done…”

 

“Fred?”

 

They both turned to look at him for judgement and the crowd did too; Fred sighed and huffed and loved every minute of it, and finally decided on —

 

“ _ Foul. _ ”

 

“ _ Yes,”  _ crowed James. “Suck it up, Peters!”

 

“Aw, shut it, Jimmy. What even  _ happens  _ if there’s a foul?” 

 

“Free hit!” yelled Sam Mason, whom they shared a dormitory with. 

 

“Disqualify him!” shouted a seventh year Ravenclaw girl. 

 

Fred thought for a moment. “The free hit has it.”

 

“Bullshit,” moaned the seventh year as her counterparts cheered, but no-one ever really argued with Fred’s decisions. It was an unspoken rule at Hogwarts when it came to matters such as these. 

 

“Oi, mate.” Adam Kendall, another of their dorm-mates, had appeared by Fred’s shoulder as the fight continued. “Just thought you should know —apparently your cousin’s on the warpath, and she’s heading this way.”

 

Fred didn’t ask how Adam knew this, as Adam always seemed to know everything about what went on in the castle . He didn’t even have a map. Infamous at Hogwarts for being able to get students absolutely  _ anything _ —be it illicit Potion ingredients, the latest banned product from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, or stashes of Manticore hash—he was a useful contact for boys like Fred, James, and Aaron to have. 

 

“Alright. Cheers, Adam.”

 

“Dunno if you wanna wrap this up,” Adam continued, nodding towards James and Aaron’s epic battle. 

 

Fred raised his eyebrows. “Do  _ you  _ fancy telling James and Aaron to stop doing whatever the fuck they like?”

 

“Got me there,” Adam conceded, and he rejoined Sam Mason as he cheered on the boys.

 

True enough not two minutes later there was a yell down the end of corridor, and every head swivelled around.

 

“Oh God, it’s Gollum,” Aaron moaned as the crowd parted. By ‘Gollum’ he meant Dominique Weasley, resident Hogwarts beauty and Fred and James’s cousin. Possibly as far from Gollum as you could get appearance-wise, it was common knowledge in the castle that she and Aaron hated each other like poison. You could imagine their mutual horror when their best friends started dating. 

 

“James,” said Dom dangerously once she’d approached. “What the hell are you doing?”

 

James waved his wand and Boris made another miscalculated grab for Timothy. “Well, if I absolutely  _ had  _ to answer, I’d say that I’m providing much needed joy to a castle otherwise darkened by the presence of Dominique Buzzkill Weasley.”

 

“And you think that that’s a good example to set as Quidditch captain, do you?” she snapped. “You know, for some God forsaken reason, James, people in this school actually look up to you, and you go prancing around acting like the world’s biggest  _ knob _ …”

 

“Y’know, you’re beginning to sound a lot like Uncle Percy, and let me tell you, Dom:  _ that’s not a compliment.” _

 

Dominique folded her arms. “I’ll tell Maya.” 

 

Fred rolled his eyes. Even though he didn’t dislike Dom as much as James and Aaron did, he couldn’t help but think that if his cousin thought  _ that  _ tactic would work on James, then she was absolutely barking.

 

“Are you fucking joking? You’re going to tattle on me to my  _ girlfriend _ ?”

 

“Thought she wasn’t your girlfriend?” Aaron piped up, sending a wink Tilda’s way; she blushed and giggled. James ignored him.

 

“Why don’t you go and write to my bloody  _ mother  _ while you’re at it. Maybe go and fetch McGonagall so she can  _ put us in detention _ …”

 

“Oh, shut up, James,” said Dom irritably as several onlookers laughed. “I just thought that since you’ve got a younger brother and sister at this school it’s your responsibility to set a good example for them!”

 

James rolled his eyes. “They’ve got Teddy for that. Or Rose. Or Vic. Or  _ Molly _ . So relax, Weasley. Sam Mason’s taking bets on who’ll win over there — maybe you can win a galleon or two.”

 

“I don’t  _ need  _ a galleon or two.”

 

“Oh shit, yeah. We’re stinking rich.”

 

Aaron liked that one, laughing as Timothy’s head crumbled to the floor so that all he was controlling was a headless body, and Fred smothered a grin.

 

“You ever heard of modesty, James?” he asked. “Sort of means that we aren’t supposed to go around talking about how much money we’ve got.” 

 

“Well, it’s true,” James went, shrugging. “No point in lying about it in my book. Aw, don’t look at me like that, Dom. Don’t you have puppies to drown in cauldrons, or something?”

 

Dominique flicked her glorious blonde hair (even Aaron had to admit that she was stunning) and glared at them all. “One day,” she announced, “everyone will see that you three are actually the biggest idiots to ever set foot in this Godforsaken school and you’ll be  _ begging  _ me to put in a good word for you. No offence, Fred.”

And with that Dom flounced off, just as Boris crumbled and shattered at James’s feet.

 

“What the fuck is her problem?” he asked loudly as the surrounding students burst into applause and Aaron started bowing.

 

“Ignore her,” Fred told him. “She's just angry you and Maya are back together again.”

 

“But  _ why _ \-- _ ” _

 

“Don't be thick, James. You know what Dom’s like. Everyone at Hogwarts loved Victoire, Molly’s head girl, we’re… I dunno-- _ us _ , and let's not even get started on our bloody parents. The girl’s got a lot to live up to, and she doesn't like you because everything is so God damn easy for you.”

 

“It's  _ not _ ,” James began, but again Fred cut him off.

 

“Oh, don't bullshit me, Potter. It is and you know it.” He paused. He almost said how it didn't help the way James and Aaron ran around the school showing off and acting like twats, but he didn't. 

 

He'd almost said it a lot over the past five years.

 

“Right. Well… who cares anyway,” shrugged James as Aaron came over. “C’mon, let's go before-- ”

 

“POTTER!”

 

The three boys turned around and saw an enraged Professor Hockley approaching, her eyes bulging at the piles of debris littering the floor.

 

“Oh dear,” said Aaron idly.

 

* * *

 

James was fifteen minutes late to his detention but he was still the first one to arrive at the designated Transfiguration classroom. 

 

He had taken the blame for his and Aaron’s stunt in the corridor that afternoon (he knew that Aaron had hoped to meet up with Tilda Waltham later that night, and Fred had needed to get is Potions essay done for the next morning) and so he had made his way to detention alone. 

 

Vaguely hoping that it would be some fifth prefect to turn up and not Hockley or Bobby Matthews, James sauntered over to the window, hopped onto the ledge, and lit a cigarette.

 

It was an unfortunate habit of his. He’d only started last year to piss off his dad (which had worked  _ fantastically _ ) only to then find out months later that he’d actually become addicted to the damn things. Aaron didn’t care (he smoked on and off himself) but Fred had gotten him to promise time and time again that he would quit. Of course, James had broken every promise. In the end they compromised that as long as James didn’t smoke in the dormitory he could do whatever he damn well pleased. 

 

It was probably one of the only times in his life that James had ever had to compromise. 

 

As he watched the swirling smoke drift out of the open window into the inky black of the sky, he considered what else he could have been doing with his precious time that evening; having a laugh with Fred and Aaron, most likely. Or he could’ve been with Maya. She’d only just taken him back after breaking up with him for hexing one of her Hufflepuff friends (Merlin, he  _ needed  _ to stop doing that) and they were in a wonderful stage of their relationship ( if you could call it that)  where arguing was rare. That stage never lasted long, so he really ought to make the most of it whilst he could.

 

Soon enough his mind wandered to all the activities that he  _ could  _ be doing with Maya had he not ended up in detention that night-- most of them took place in a broom cupboard-- when a noise by the entrance jolted him out of his reverie. 

 

He looked up; Sarah Flynn was leaning against the doorway with a smirk on her face.

 

“Fuck me, you look cool,” she went, nodding towards his cigarette. James fought a grin.

 

“You’re not wrong,” he sighed. “It’s the only reason I smoke, y’know-- for the aesthetic.”

 

“Liar,” laughed Sarah, and she took a seat in the centre of the room, dumping her things unceremoniously on the floor. “So, what have they got you in here for then, Potter?”

 

He took a final drag and tossed his cigarette out the window. “Well, some people claim that Aaron and I were responsible for the destruction of two statues and a few tapestries on the second floor corridor, but  _ I  _ don’t think they’ve got much evidence.”

 

“Conspiracy, huh?” she went, playing along. “Can't imagine why they picked you two to be the scapegoat. You’ve been so sweet and innocent these past five years.”

 

“Well, I’ve tried to be as rule-abiding as  _ you _ , Flynn, but it turns out running around punching people in the face  _ isn’t  _ the popularity boost you’d think it was-- ”

 

“Low blow, Potter…”

 

“James? For goodness sake, have you been  _ smoking  _ in here?”

 

Their reprimander had arrived and to James’s delight it was in the form of his older cousin Molly Weasley, red-faced and slightly out of breath. The only one of his cousin’s and siblings as brilliant as he was, he’d always got on well with Molly despite their obvious differences: she was a scholar and head girl, and he was king of the troublemakers. As such, he regarded her with amusement. 

 

“Molly Gertrude Weasley, are you actually  _ late  _ for something? You're not on drugs, are you?” He looked at Sarah. “God, it’s  _ always  _ the quiet ones...”

 

Molly rolled her eyes. “Call me Gertrude again, James, and I’ll dock points. And for your information I wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight. They only asked me to come ten minutes ago because someone blew up Professor Hockley’s office.”

 

“Oh. How awful.” James arranged his expression into one of deep concern; he was fairly certain that somewhere in the castle Fred and Aaron was running away from a very pissed off Transfiguration professor. 

 

“Good for them,” remarked Sarah, voicing James’s sentiments; Molly frowned. 

 

“And what are you here for, Flynn? Fighting again, I suppose?”

 

“I punched Bruce Warrington in the face and called him a stupid fuck.”

 

James burst out laughing. “Lovely,” said Molly dryly. “I don’t even want to  _ know  _ what you did, James. You’re already in enough trouble with Uncle Harry as it is…”

 

“Aw, Dad’s alright,” he said, although he knew it was a lie. “So what is it? Lines? Cleaning? Or are we just supposed to sit here in silence and dwell on our sins?”

 

“Lines,” supplied Molly, reading over the parchment left on the desk. “ _ I will strive not to behave like an animal in the school corridors.  _ Two feet of parchment.” She rolled up the scroll and shoved it in her pocket. “Right, I’m off to patrols. I’ll be back in an hour or two. Just… please try to behave yourselves.” And, shaking her head rather hopelessly, she left.

 

“And  _ that’s  _ your cousin,” marvelled Sarah, rocking back on her chair and kicking back her legs. “How are you two from the same gene pool again?”

 

James shrugged. “Believe it or not, she's actually pretty sound. Better than Dom anyway.”

 

Neither one made a move to get out parchment or a quill. Rather, James pulled out another fag and Sarah gazed at him curiously. 

 

“Want one?” he offered, because he was nothing if not a gentleman. She shook her head.

 

“Nah. I’m reformed.”

 

“You punched Bruce Warrington in the face earlier,” he pointed out, amused. 

 

“Yeah, well, he deserved it, the arsehole. Besides, this is my first detention in a whole year. I deserve an award, really.”

 

“Oh yeah? And what did Warrington do to deserve a punch? Not that I’m complaining, mind. I’ve always wanted to sock him one. Him and Evermonde give Slytherins a bad name.” 

 

She shrugged. “Nothing really. Just said a few things about Al that I didn’t like, so I hit him. Apparently you  _ can’t  _ just go around hitting whoever you like though, so here I am.”

 

“Al?” For a moment James thought that she was talking about his brother, and he was very confused as to why Sarah was running about punching people in his honour. Then it clicked. “Oh,  _ Morgan _ . Christ. What’d he say?”

 

“The usual shit. He’d like to fuck her down an alley in Hogsmeade, apparently. Probably next to a load of bins and rats.” She paused. “Fuck it. I’ll take a cig —i f the offer’s still open.”

 

“You’re lucky I enjoy corrupting people,” James said lightly, tossing her the pack; she caught it easily. “Out of interest, why  _ did  _ you quit again?”

 

She shrugged as she fished out a cigarette and lit it with her wand; the look on her face as she inhaled was pure bliss. “Dunno. Had something to prove, I guess. Chris didn’t think I could do it, and neither did Tom. Made Alex happy too.” 

 

James made a face. “You quit for Morgan?”

 

“ _ No _ , I quit for me. Getting into her good books for it was just an added bonus. ‘Sides, what’s your problem with her anyway?”

 

“ _ I  _ don’t have an issue with her,” he went indignantly. “ _ She’s _ the one that hates me and my mates.” 

 

“Shows what you know,” Sarah remarked. “Alex doesn’t hate anyone. She’s just not afraid to tell you when you’re being a twat.”

 

“And neither are you, apparently,” said James dryly. “Happy to take my bloody cigs though, aren’t you…” 

 

She shrugged, not looking at all abashed, and tossed his cigarettes back over. “You want it back?”

 

“Nah. Look at it as a reward for punching Warrington.”

 

She nodded and took another drag, and he looked her over: he had to admit, he was rather impressed despite himself.  She wasn’t much of a looker —especially not compared to M aya Fawley —but there was something rather intriguing about the girl; she was so sarcastic that it was hard to tell when she was being serious, and she sat exactly the same way he did: draped across the chair with her long legs stretched out, cigarette held lazily near the floor.

 

“What’s the deal, anyway?” he asked before he could stop himself. “With the whole tutoring thing?”

 

She glanced over. “Huh?”

 

With a roll of his eyes James went, “You and Morgan. She’s been with the Ravenclaw squares for bloody ages now, and then suddenly you two are best mates.”

 

“We’re not best mates,” Sarah said moodily. “She’s got Marshall, hasn’t she…” 

 

“Yeah? And who's your best mate then, your brother?” said James innocently.

 

She threw the stub of her cigarette at him and he ducked. “Do one, Potter.”

 

“No, seriously though,” he said, laughing as he came back up. “What’s the deal?”

 

“There’s no fucking  _ deal _ . I asked her for help with schoolwork last year and she said yeah. And for some reason the whole fucking school seems set on making some big song and dance about it.”

 

“Come on. There’s about two thousand teenagers here all cooped up together in one castle. Of course people are gonna talk.”

 

“Believe me,” drawled Sarah, “you don’t need to tell me about people talking.”

 

James had a feeling she wasn’t talking about Alex Morgan anymore, and not much was said after that. Both made lacklustre attempts to get on with their lines though neither made much progress, and when Molly finally returned she was less than impressed.

 

“Really?” she sighed, picking up James’s sheet. “James, you’ve written  _ ten  _ lines. And for Heaven’s sake, Flynn, there’s ash all over yours!”

 

“Is there?” said Sarah unconcernedly. 

 

“Artsy, don’t you think?” James said as he leant forward to examine the parchment. “Very creative. And really, Molly, you can’t punish a student for creativity.”

 

He caught Sarah’s eye and winked at her, and although she rolled her eyes there was a grin there as well. 

 

Meanwhile Molly raised her eyes to the heavens. “Go. Just go, both of you. I’ll deal with Hockley.”

 

“Sick!” Looking pleasantly surprised, Sarah jumped to her feet and was halfway to the door in a heartbeat. “Thanks, Weasley. See ya.”

 

With a slight shake of her head Molly turned to James and said in a tone that was only slightly disapproving, “She’s really something, isn’t she?”

 

“Yeah,” he said, thinking of scrawny Sarah Flynn taking on the hefty Bruce Warrington, apparently without a second’s thought. “She’s something alright.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sarah was twenty minutes late. Normally Alex wouldn't have made a big deal about it, except that Sarah, chaotic as she was, was almost  _ never  _ late to their sessions.

 

Not that anything could be seriously wrong —it was Hogwarts after all—but it was still odd nevertheless. Sarah wasn’t exactly the shy and retiring type. It wouldn’t be beyond the realm of imagination that she could have got herself into trouble on the way there. 

 

And Davey Corner had been causing her problems over the past year. Maybe he'd done something to her tonight. Of course, Chris would always defend her, but he couldn't keep an eye on his sister and Davey every second of the day.

 

Twenty five minutes. Maybe she should go and look for her...

 

“Morgan.”

 

Alex looked up and there stood perhaps the last person she expected to see in the library: Chris Flynn. He stood a few feet away leaning against a nearby stack looking sullen, and all Alex could stupidly think was  _ Merlin he looks like Sarah.  _ Same ash blonde hair, same olive green eyes… they even stood with the same slouch. It was rather unnerving. 

 

_ “ _ Um… hello,” she said uncertainly, for as much as he resembled her friend, she still didn't know how to speak to this particular Flynn. “Can I do anything for you?”

 

He shook his head, unsmiling. “I’ve got a message from Sarah. She wanted me to tell you that she’s not coming tonight.”

 

“Right.” She’d figured as much. “Where is she?”

 

“Detention.” He said it almost as a challenge, as though he were daring Alex to air her disapproval. 

 

“Oh. Okay.” She hesitated. “Why is she in detention? What did she do?”

 

He threw her a scornful look. “Ask her yourself,” he said, and without so much as a goodbye he swaggered away to where Davey Corner and the rest of his Hufflepuff friends stood waiting, all of who were earning the eye of a disapproving Madame Pince. 

 

Alex had a feeling that he’d been testing her somehow —if so she was positive she’d failed. 

 

Detention…  _ detention…  _ Why hadn’t Sarah told her herself? And why did she wait so long to give Alex the message. Most importantly, Sarah didn’t  _ get  _ detentions anymore, not since the brawl outside the carriages at the start of their fifth year...

 

And so Alex left the library dejected, and when she arrived back at the common room she was greeted by a triumphant Grace. 

 

“I told you!” she trilled as Alex approached her by the window. “I told you that girl was nothing but trouble!”

 

“Grace, don’t be dramatic,” she replied wearily, setting down her things. “It’s one detention. It’s not a big deal.”

 

“For fighting too,” Grace went on, ignoring every word she said. “Did you hear that? She punched Bruce Warrington right in the face. Clio saw the whole thing, and she said that he didn’t even  _ do  _ anything — ”

 

“If it was  _ Bruce Warrington _ , Grace, then I highly doubt that…”

 

“ — _ and _ she said that apparently she was bullying him all through Muggle Studies too.” She clucked her tongue. “So much for having changed her ways.”

 

Alex rubbed her temple as she stared at the cackling fire. “She  _ has  _ changed. This is her first detention in a year, she hasn’t smoked in months, and she did really well on her OWLs, so…”

 

“She’s working for Mundungus Fletcher, you know.” 

 

“What?” Her head snapped up. “Mundungus Fletcher? That old crook that swindles people by Knockturn Alley?”

 

“That’s the one,” said Grace happily. “Hardly surprising, is it? After all, it’s common knowledge that horrid brother of hers left Hogwarts to work with him. I suppose it’s only natural that her and Chris would follow in his footsteps.”

 

“Grace, I swear if this is just another one of your stupid rumours…”

 

“Alex, darling, it was your dear old brother that told me. If you’re going to be angry with anyone then be angry with Paul. Or better yet, with  _ her _ .”

 

She regarded Grace unhappily. “You’re one hundred percent sure?” 

 

“Oh good Lord. You know, the way you go on, you’d think the girl was a martyr or something. Let’s list of some of Saint Flynn’s credentials, shall we?  Grace rolled her eyes. “Yes, Alex. I’m one hundred percent sure.”

 

Alex squeezed her eyes shut. “Well… that’s her business, then.” 

 

Grace stared at her in disbelief. “I’m  _ sorry _ ? You sacrifice all of your time tutoring that girl and get yourself into all sorts of trouble with your family,  _ just  _ to give her some sort of semblance of a future just for her to throw it away by doing dodgy stuff for Mundungus Fletcher, and you’re  _ okay with it _ ?!”

 

“Yes, Grace, I am! I’m Sarah’s friend, not her mother, and what she does in her spare time is on her. I’m not going to lecture her about it. Now, I’ve got to get started on Jenkins’ essay —just promise me that you won’t go around spreading this, okay? ”

 

Her friend looked outraged. “What? But it’s true! You  _ know  _ it’s true! I understand you not wanting me to spread false rumours, but  _ this… _ ” 

 

“ _ Grace _ . I said not to. For once, please, can you just do what I ask without kicking up such a bloody fuss about it?”

 

Grace didn’t like that one bit. 

 

“Alex Morgan, you are completely and absolutely ridiculous. You are letting this girl walk all over you and doing nothing about it! Well, you might stand for that, but  _ I  _ won’t. I’m going to bed, and I swear to Merlin, when we wake up tomorrow morning, Alex, you’d better have grown a backbone!”

 

And off she went with a lofty ‘ _ good night’ _ , and Alex was left alone in the common room, her frustration positively radiating from her body. 

 

Merlin. It would have been so much easier to justify Sarah’s actions if Grace hadn’t actually had a good point. Because Alex didn’t doubt for one minute that her best friend and  brother were telling the truth and, despite what she’d told Grace, the thought of Sarah risking everything to work for Fletcher irritated her to no end.

 

Because Grace was sort of right, wasn’t she? Alex  _ had  _ put up with a lot to help Sarah out and she  _ had  _ given up a lot of her time. What was the point if Sarah was just going to get herself thrown in Azkaban? Surely it wasn’t too much to ask for her to just not do anything illegal in the meantime?

 

Not feeling at all like talking to Grace anymore that evening, Alex stayed down in the common room to write her Defence essay. Initially she only intended to start her plan and introduction, but ended up staying to write her first argument, and then her counter-argument, and then her evaluation, and then to finish the whole damn thing, so that by the time she was done it was just gone midnight and she was the one of the only ones left in the common room. 

 

“You coming up soon, Alex?” called Hilary Ash, who was just making her way to the dormitory with Fliss Parish. 

 

Alex nodded tiredly. “I’ll be there now. I’ve just got to get my things together…”

 

The two girls went upstairs, and Alex bent under the desk to retrieve her things. She hoped Grace would be asleep by now. And Merlin, what would she say to Sarah if she was up there? She couldn’t exactly have an all-out confrontation with her in front of their dorm-mates...

 

“You know,” came a cheerful voice from somewhere above, “I really don’t get you, Morgan.” 

 

Alex jumped about a foot and her head crashed into the desk above. 

 

“ _ Shit _ .” 

 

There was a bark of laughter as she emerged from the desk with her hand rubbing her sore head, and when she looked up James Potter was grinning down at her.

 

“Swearing now, are we?” he said. “I’m not gonna lie, Morgan, it’s a bit of a turn on.”

 

“You’re dating my cousin, Potter,” she grumbled as she clambered to her feet. “What do you want?”

 

“Me and Fawley aren’t dating. We’re  _ seeing each other _ ,” said James with that same grin on his face. 

 

“That’s stupid,” said Alex stubbornly. “She’s saying exactly the same thing. Why can’t you two just admit you like each other instead of pansying around the whole thing? It’s silly.”

 

“Right. Well, believe it or not, I’m not actually here for relationship advice.”

 

“Then why  _ are  _ you here?” 

 

James ignored her and instead leant against the desk examining his nails carelessly. “Y’know, Morgan, I really don’t  _ get  _ you,” he said again. “Marshall’s so much of a pain in the arse that not even  _ you _ , with your halo and your martyr act, can deny it. And Flynn, despite a few violent tendencies and a penchant for crime, is actually alright. So I just don’t bloody understand why you’d stick around being Marshall’s lapdog when you’ve got someone Flynn around?” 

 

Alex stared at him for a moment, almost in shock, before letting out an outraged laugh and shaking her head. “Right, so let me get this straight: you’re here, accosting me in the common room…”

 

“Hardly ‘accosting’, Morgan, but do go on.”

 

“... in order to lecture me about who I should be friends with? Don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice change of pace to be told I should be friends with  _ Sarah  _ instead of  _ Grace _ , but still — ” 

 

“Alright, alright, don’t get your knickers in a twist,” James said, raising his hands in the air. “As I’m not a stroppy sixteen year old girl or a middle-aged witch with some  _ extremely _ outdated views, I’ll tell you now that I’m not telling you to do anything at all. That’s your business. What  _ I  _ was doing was trying to work out the logic behind your thinking. And failing at it, mind you.”

 

“Oh.” She was still rather confused but the annoyance had faded. “Well, why do you care anyway? You don’t even like Sarah.”

 

He shrugged. “I don’t dislike her. Not the point, though. After what she did for you earlier I would’ve thought that you’d be jumping to her defence.”

 

She paused. “Wait, hang on. What did she do for me earlier?”

“Well, well, well. The seemingly omniscient Alex Morgan  _ doesn’t  _ actually know everything. Who knew? Well, as I’m sure you’re aware —or maybe you don’t, who the fuck even knows anymore—”

 

“ _ James _ .”

 

“Flynn hit Warrington for talking shit about you.”

 

“What? What did he  _ say _ ?”

 

James gave a short laugh. “I won’t go into specifics, but let’s just say I’m guessing it’s not the type of shit you’d hear from those Ravenclaw princes you hang out with.”

 

Alex sat there for a moment stewing things over. “For Merlin’s sake. She can’t just let me be annoyed at her in peace, can she?”

 

“Um… that’s not exactly the reaction I expected, but alright…” 

 

“No, I just meant —I am touched that she’d do that for me, I really am, but now it just feels like it’s unfair of me to be annoyed about something that I think I’m allowed to be annoyed about, and it’s just so…  _ irritating _ .”

 

James wrinkled his brow. “Right. Well, I don’t really know what the hell you’re on about, so I’m going to bed. Oi, if you ever get your head straight with this Marshall versus Flynn shit, let me know, yeah? I reckon I’ll get Sam Mason to start taking bets on it.”

 

And with that he straightened up and strolled towards the boys staircases, hands in his pockets and whistling cheerfully. Alex nearly let him go, but at the last minute called out: “James?” and he paused. “You're telling me the truth, right? This isn't just one of your stupid jokes?”

 

For a moment his face clouded over and the usual careless mirth was gone. Just for a moment though. “C’mon, Morgan. I know I'm a dick, but I’m not that much of a dick.”

 

“Right. Sorry.”

 

He didn’t acknowledge the apology. “Night, Morgan.”

 

“Night, James.”

 

* * *

 

 

Hector Evermonde was nervous. Whenever he was nervous his left leg would jig up and down. It happened so often nowadays, he hardly ever noticed anymore.

 

He glanced at his watch, and sighed, running his hand impatiently through his dark, thinning hair. Birch was fifteen minutes late. It was not a good sign. Birch was never late. It was odd, especially at this time of night.

 

The aging wizard got up from where he sat at his magnificent mahogany desk, complete with a photograph of his wife, a set of expensive quills, and a shiny gold plaque that read 'Hector Evermonde: Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic', and started to pace the room.

 

In all his days working at the Ministry, this was perhaps the most stressed Evermonde had ever been. Months of planning, building his reputation, a glorious new future for Wizarding Britain all within his grasp, and it all relied on this one night.

 

Suddenly there was a hasty knock at the door, and a second later Sandor Birch hurried in, looking flustered.

 

"Sorry, sir," he said, bowing his head. "I was stopped by the Minister on my way here."

 

"The Minister?" Evermonde frowned. He was fully aware that Shacklebolt was not overly fond of him, and if he was nosing into his business now, at this critical time...

 

"Cadwell's in."

 

Evermonde's head shot up; a smile spread across his face.

 

"You’re positive?"

 

Birch nodded his head. He had an air of discomfort about him, as though he were rather keen to leave. "Yes, sir. You can start taking your campaign public."

 

"Sandor, this is excellent news!" he exclaimed. "What time did he say...?"

 

"He wants to meet with you in the morning, sir, to begin the planning. He was thinking of having the first proclamation widespread by November."

 

Evermonde frowned for a moment. "I have a meeting with the Minister in the morning, it will have to be no earlier than eleven."

 

Birch nodded his head again. "Very well, sir. I'll owl Mr Cadwell right away."

 

"Thank you very much, Sandor," he said. "You can go, now."

 

The door snapped shut behind Birch, and Evermonde returned to his desk, deep in thought. Yes, this was most satisfactory. Finally, things could begin...

 


	4. The Seeker

The Seeker

 

Sarah didn't return to the dormitory that evening. Alex suspected that she spent the night with the Hufflepuffs instead, courtesy of Chris and Charlotte.

It was, despite everything, rather funny. Sarah dealt with the likes of her father, her older brothers, and Davey Corner on a regular basis without batting an eyelid, but the thought of a pissed off Alex Morgan sends her running to the Hufflepuff basement.

Ridiculous.

Although Grace was still a bit sore with her for the previous night for the most part she was over it, and so the pair of them and Martha chattered away amiably enough as they made their way down to breakfast. Still, that didn't make the prospect of telling them that she was ditching them for Sarah Flynn that breakfast any more pleasant.

"I'll be with you in a minute," she said to the two girls once they'd reach the Great Hall. "I've just got to talk to Sarah about something."

Grace pulled a face and went, "Oh God. suit yourself," and dragged Martha over to a space at the Gryffindor table conveniently near to where James, Fred, and Aaron sat whilst Alex ventured further up the Hall to where Sarah sat alone.

Really, it didn't matter that she had most likely pissed Grace off again. These day it felt like all she ever did was annoy Grace anyway. Besides, the look on Sarah's face was priceless when Alex sat down next to her, pour herself some pumpkin juice and said a cheerful, "Good morning."

Sarah gaped at her, revealing a mouthful of chewed up bacon, and Alex grimaced.

"Oh, please God, shut your mouth. I think I can see your tonsils."

She obeyed but the look of surprise didn't fade as she swallowed her food. "What're you doing here? I thought—aren't you pissed off with me?"

She regarded her with amusement. "I was, a bit. But then I remembered that I'm your friend, not your mother, and you're competent enough to make your own decisions—though just barely, mind. Besides, if you ask me, punching Bruce Warrington in the face should warrant an award for special services to the school not detention."

"So let me get this straight-I hit Bruce Warrington in the face, got detention, stood you up, didn't even have the balls to tell you about it, and I get off scot-free?"

"More or less. Although now you mention it, you did leave me to wait by myself in the library for a good half an hour without bothering to tell me yourself…"

Sarah eyed her warily. "What do you want?"

"You know what I want."

"Oh God…"

"Oh yes."

"Are you really doing this to me?"

"Life is cruel."

"I probably won't make it."

"Well then you have nothing to fear."

"I fear embarrassing myself in front of everyone."

"I thought you didn't care what everyone thinks of you?"

"Yeah, well, I'm full of bollocks and you know it."

The two girls glared at each other for a moment and then Sarah sighed.

"I'm really doing this, aren't I?"

Alex smiled impishly. "You really are. Who knows, maybe the stars will align and you'll actually be enjoy something for once..."

"Oh, ha ha ha," Sarah said sullenly, but she couldn't quite stop the corners of her mouth turning up. "Fuck it. Maybe it'll be fun."

"That is an excellent attitude to take." Alex beamed at her and drained her pumpkin juice. "Right, now we've sorted that, I'd better go and join Grace before she self-implodes."

"Probably for the best," Sarah agreed and she watched as Alex got up and sat next to Grace and Martha further down the table.

_What the hell had she just agreed to?_

She sat there frowning at her toast for a moment, then stood up, slung her bag over her shoulder, and sauntered over to the Hufflepuff table.

"Alright, dickhead?" she greeted Chris affectionately, sitting opposite him. "Where's Davey?"

"Asleep." Chris looked up from his breakfast and smiled at her. It was rare for him to smile, but when he did it was always sweet and angelic.

"Good. Maybe that means he won't be able to be an arsehole for a few hours."

"Aw, he's alright, Sare. I talked to him about giving you a hard time."

"Yeah." She didn't bother to mention that whatever talk Chris had given Davey hadn't extended to when her brother was absent. "Hey, I've got something to tell you."

He glanced at her with his mouth full of food. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna try out for the Quidditch team." She fidgeted with her sleeve and awaited his reaction; he swallowed and stared at her, impassive. "Well?"

He sighed. "Sarah…"

"It's not a big deal," she said quickly. "I probably won't even make it. I mean, James Potter's captain, and there's gonna be loads of people trying out..."

"People aren't gonna suddenly start liking you if you make the team, y'know," he said bluntly.

"What? I—no, that's not why I—" But Sarah stopped and Chris looked at her knowingly.

"Look, Sar, I get it. You and me, we're never gonna be voted most popular round here, but that's just something we're gonna have to deal with. There's no point running around killing yourself trying to get a bunch of wankers who couldn't give a fuck either way to be your mate."

"They don't know us," Sarah said, not meeting his eye. "Not really. They know the shit we've done, but they don't know us. If we just made an effort—I mean, this could give us a chance to show people that we're not like them, that we're different from Jack and Mike."

"No. It could give you a chance," Chris replied flatly. "You're the one that apparently gives a fuck. I don't need anyone else's opinion to know that I'm not like them."

Sarah bit her lip. "Alex thinks it's a good idea."

This was the wrong thing to say. She realised that straight away, even before Chris's eyes flashed and he slammed his fork on the table.

"Oh yeah? Alex thinks that, does she?" He stood up and picked up his bag. "I've gotta go, Sarah. I've got Charms now."

"Yeah, so do I, you idiot, I'll come with…"

But Chris had already stormed off, leaving Sarah to stare after her brother in shock.

* * *

Henry King was a fortunate boy. He was handsome in a classical sort of way, and he was clever in an unexceptional sort of way. He had excellent manners, came from a wealthy family, and was nice enough that he was well-liked across Hogwarts. He never made jokes, but he always laughed at Alex's, and he was captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. A boy like Henry King certainly didn't have anything to be bitter about.

Except that he did, and that something was called James Potter and Aaron Peters.

It was Friday afternoon and Alex and Henry were sat in the Great Hall having a rare quiet moment between. It would have been rather enjoyable, had Henry not run into James and Aaron moments before.

"They're such arseholes," he fumed, glaring at his plate of sausage and mash as though it had just insulted his mother. "Sixteen years old and they still think it's bloody funny to charm my voice to go high-pitched! It's embarrassing for them. Potter's a Quidditch captain for Merlin's sake, he should be setting a good example for people…"

"I know, Hen," sighed Alex, who had been subjugated to this rant many times before. "Just ignore them. You know that just do it to annoy you."

"Yeah, well, it works. Walking around here like they own the bloody place, hexing whoever they like, pulling those stupid pranks… The teachers let them get away with it too, all they get is a slap on the wrist and a detention because, Oh, it's just those three Gryffindor boys being silly again."

His impression of Professor McGonagall wasn't very good, and Alex told him so in a bid to make him laugh.

"Whatever," he said sulkily. "She favours Gryffindors, you know. She's not even subtle about it."

"McGonagall's a fantastic witch," argued Alex. "I like her. Now, come on, Hen, do you really want to spend all of lunch talking about James Potter and his lot when you could be having an absolutely riveting conversation with your completely wonderful girlfriend?"

"I suppose not." Now a small smile tugged at Henry's face, but just as he was about to ask Alex an actual question about herself they were joined by another.

"Hullo, Henry. Alex." Zoey Zabini arrived and, giving Alex a frosty look, sat delicately down opposite them. "How are you?"

"Same old," Henry shrugged. "Had a run-in with Potter, Peters, and Weasley just now. They were fighting with Tiberius and I stepped in to defend him."

Tried to defend him, Alex thought.

"I can't say I'm surprised," drawled Zoey, examining her nails. "Those boys are hooligans. I never did understand Grace and Martha's obsession with them. Hey, did you two hear—"

"Hey, everyone! I've got wonderful news!" Zoey was interrupted by an exuberant Grace, who was followed closely by Martha. "Martha's trying out for Seeker on Saturday!"

"What?!" Alex stared at the pair in shock. "You didn't tell me that!"

"Well, you can hardly blame them, Alex, they barely see you nowadays," said Zoey coolly. "Good luck, Martha. I'm sure you'll do wonderfully. Give Henry here some real competition, right?"

Alex didn't hear Martha's reply as she was too busy imagining Grace's reaction when she found out that not only was Alex not going to be supporting Martha at trials, she had also forced Grace's self-proclaimed 'worst enemy' to try out too. She stared at her lunch in horror.

"Alex?" Henry nudged her gently. "You okay?"

"What? Oh yes, of course." Suddenly everyone's eyes were on her, and she forced a smile. "You'll be great, Martha. Are you nervous?"

"A bit," she admitted. "I bet there'll be loads of people trying out, and it's not like I'm close with James or anything, so I won't have an advantage there…"

Grace scoffed. "Nonsense. James is very fond of you, Martha—I'm sure he'd love to have you on the team. Right, Alex?"

Actually Alex thought that this was a bit of a stretch. As far as she knew the only time James and Martha ever interacted was when he referred to her as 'Marshall's Manslave'; she wasn't even positive that James knew her actual name.

"Of course," she said.

"Well, you'd better hope that Peters isn't trying out," said Henry. "No way would Potter pick anyone else over him."

Alex shook her head. "He's not. Ja—Potter was trying to persuade him in Transfiguration yesterday. Peters wasn't having any of it."

"Of course Aaron Peters would think he's too cool for Quidditch," he muttered. "Well, at least I won't have to deal with Potter and Peters on the pitch."

"Hear, hear." Now Isaac Selwyn, Henry's best friend joined them along with fellow Ravenclaw Kieran Ratcliffe, and Alex saw all hopes of a quiet lunch with Henry evaporate entirely. "God, I hate those two."

Kieran rolled his eyes as he opened up his copy of the Daily Prophet, whilst Grace and Martha looked surprised.

"What? You don't like James and Aaron? Oh, I think they're just divine," sighed Grace. "And Aaron's so handsome, don't you think, Alex?"

Alex went, "Mmmm," non-committedly, and Grace giggled.

"Oh, nothing on Henry, of course," she said playfully, nudging him and he grimaced at her.

"Honestly, Grace," went Isaac, rolling his eyes, "has being in the Lion's Den for so long destroyed your brain cells? Potter and Peter are idiots and the school's full of morons who for some reason think that they're so wonderful just because one of them's a Quidditch captain and the other one likes to play rebel."

It didn't take a genius to take notice of the jealous note in Isaac's voice, but Kieran spoke up before anyone had a chance to make fun of him for it.

"Well, I think that a few Gryffindors are hardly the worst of your problems right now, Selwyn," he said grimly, tossing the Prophet onto the table disgustedly. "Have you lot read this?"

Isaac was the first to reach for the paper, and Zoey asked, "Why, what's happened now? Another bloody riot again? I swear to Merlin, if those groups of hooligans don't stop clogging up Diagon Alley with their stupid signs and chants again..."

"Not exactly," Kieran answered Zoey. "There's an article about all these protests that have been happening lately. They're blaming the Muggles for the unemployment and the riots."

"You're joking." Alex abandoned all pretense at eating her lunch and snatched the paper from Isaac's hands. "They can't do that!"

"Well, apparently they can," said Isaac, looking decidedly miffed at her actions. "A lot of people are agreeing with it too. My grandfather told me that there's been a lot of talk in the Ministry about Shacklebolt losing his touch. A lot of wizards are unhappy with the current regime, there's too many of us now without enough space to hide."

"There's being unhappy with the current regime and there's this," she muttered, scanning through the article. "This is rubbish! It's pure propaganda, there's no actual fact to it!"

Isaac's lip curled. "You'll have trouble convincing people of that. You didn't hear this from me, but apparently the Senior Undersecretary is behind all this. Have you heard of Hector Evermonde?"

"Hector Evermonde? You mean Tiberius Evermonde's father?"

Tiberius Evermonde was a Slytherin in their year. Alex didn't know much about him, other than that he was rich, unfriendly, and detested Potter, Peters, and Weasley.

"His uncle," said Zoey. "Although I hear that Tiberius doesn't live with his parents. No one's seen Tiberius's father in years and I think his mother died when he was young."

Alex stared at Isaac. "How do you know all this?"

"My grandfather."

"Did you know that?" she asked Henry; she knew that the pair were friends. Henry shrugged.

"Can't say that I did. We get on, but I've never been to his house or anything. Tibe's a pretty closed book."

"Yeah, well, Tiberius is an arsehole anyway."

"Do you like anyone, Isaac…"

But Isaac didn't answer as there was a commotion by the doors; a bunch of second years girls yelped as they were jostled to one side and Professor Artemis rushed past them. Pale faced and looking a bit like he might vomit, he jogged up to the teachers table and started talking frantically with Professor McGonagall.

"I wonder what that's about?" Kieran wondered.

"Probably nothing," Henry dismissed. "I'm sure old Artie's just forgot to put out one of those stupid candles he lights in his room and accidentally burnt down the whole classroom."

"OhmyGod, have you lot heard?!" A breathless Clio arrived, flopping down next to Henry.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, what now?" groaned Isaac, looking thoroughly irritated.

"Someone's destroyed the Muggle Studies classroom! Everything's broken—the desks, the displays, Artie's collection of Muggle artifacts at the back of the room. And there's been things written on the wall too."

"What things?" asked Grace, arching an eyebrow.

"Oh, you know, old anti-Muggle propaganda. 'For the greater good', 'magic is might', that sort of thing…"

"'Magic is might'?" Alex's jaw dropped. "That's You-Know-Who's slogan. That's what the Death Eater's wrote on that statue in the Ministry during the wars! Those were the words behind the Muggleborn Registration Commission! And 'For the Greater Good'- that was used by Grindelwald!"

Grace tutted as she took a spoonful of soup. "Honestly, Alex, how do you remember all of that? You must have memorised your History of Magic book…"

"There was a note too," Clio continued, looking as though she might faint from excitement, "anonymous, of course, saying that the Muggles won't get away for what they've done to us and that this is just the beginning."

Isaac grimaced and made some biting remark or other whilst Alex exchanged anxious glances with Kieran. "What the _hell_ …?"

* * *

By the time Quidditch trials arrived on Saturday the Muggle Studies classroom had been vandalised two more times, and the teachers were in uproar. A guard rotation had been implemented and teachers stood outside the classroom for hours at a time.

It hadn't stopped anything though, and the perpetrator was still unknown. Rumours were spreading like wildfire, and the question on almost every student, teacher, and house elf at Hogwarts' mind was who was behind it?

Not for James Potter though. On that bitterly cold Saturday morning there was only one question for him, and that was where the bloody hell was Aaron Peters?

The wind howled across the Quidditch pitch, threatening to sweep away even the burliest of seventh years. No one looked particularly happy to be there, James included. Try-out weren't due to start for another ten minutes and already half the stands were full of either supportive friends or spys from the other houses, and a good quarter of the pitch was covered with people trying out.

"Alright, Jimmy?" Fred came to join him, looking equally chilly.

"Where's Aaron?"

"I don't think he's coming."

"He said he would."

"It's Aaron."

James frowned. "But I need him at trials. He intimidates people into doing what I say without any effort."

"Well, it looks like you're going to have to put some effort in," Fred commented, sounding very unconcerned as he gazed at the hoards of waiting hopefuls. "Looks like there's a lot of people trying out."

"Oh, it won't be this many. Half of them will be first years and the other half will be from other houses," said James gloomily. "I hate Quidditch trials."

"They're not that bad. You're just sore that Aaron refused to try out." Fred saw the look on his face and relented. "Alright, they're terrible. You should have scheduled it for seven. It'd wheedle out the ones just here to see the great James Potter."

"I thought about it," James admitted. "But then I couldn't face having to get up at six in the morning."

Behind the duo stood the rest of the team: his fellow Chasers, surly seventh year Amelia Jordan and the laid back Dougal Shaw, and his two Beaters, Lucas Phillips, an enthusiastic fifth year with a magnificent swing, and Fred's younger sister Roxanne, who, despite being absolutely tiny, was one of the most merciless Beaters amongst the school teams.

Together they all looked tired and bitter and bored as hell. James couldn't blame them.

"Alright you lot," he began, with the air of one going into war; the team all came forward, with the exception of Amelia who, as always, stayed behind looking sullen. Fred had informed him earlier that morning that she was pissed off that a sixth year had beaten her to captaincy. It hadn't helped that throughout the summer Aaron had sent her new photos every week of James posing with his badge.

"No one's happy about this. I'm not happy about it, Fred's not happy about it, Jordan's not happy about anything…"

"Watch it, Potter," she growled.

"Point is, we've got one aim only in the next billion hours, and that's to find a decent Seeker that's not a complete twat as quickly as possible. Really you poor buggars don't even have to be here, but I decided that if I have to suffer then you're all suffering too."

"Ought to be the motto of the team," Fred muttered. James sent him a look, and he added hastily, "I mean there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

"Glad to hear it," he said moodily. "Right, let's get this shit over with."

"Oh God. I can't believe I let you talk me into this. This is without a doubt the stupidest fucking thing I've ever done."

"And you have done a lot of stupid things," Alex observed, smiling slightly. Her Gryffindor scarf was wrapped several times around her neck and still dangled past her waist, and she held an enchanted goblet of tea that Sarah kept looking at enviously. "Don't worry, Sarah, you'll be fine."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." She sighed and looked at the magnificent. "You sure it's okay if I borrow your broom?"

"Sarah, you can keep it. I've never, and will never, use it. It's just gathering dust under my bed."

"Seriously?" And finally Sarah grinned, having never owned anything close to even a quarter of the price of Alex's broomstick. "Sick!"

"Yes, yes," Alex smiled. "Now listen: stay out of the sun, never ignore your opponent, and, above all, do not hesitate."

Sarah stared at her. "God, that's actually good advice. When did you starting knowing Quidditch?"

"Honestly? I'm just repeating what James said to Maya the other—Oh Merlin!"

Alex ducked down, although there was nothing to hide behind so really she was just hovering near the ground, spilling nearly all her tea in the process. The reason for this was that she had just spotted her two best friends, Grace and Martha, approaching the crowd from the castle. Sarah stared at her as if she had just sprouted two more heads.

"Huh? Al, what the fuck are you-?" But Sarah spotted Grace and Martha before she could finish and, being a rather quick-witted individual, realised what was happening at once. "Oh. Marshall and Ackerly don't know that you're here with me, do they?"

Alex looked rather sheepish. "Not exactly."

"Do they even know I'm trying out?"

"Technically no."

Sarah looked rather amused. "I'm your dirty little secret, am I, Morgan?"

"It's not that," said Alex quickly. "I'm not ashamed to be your friend or anything. It's just that Grace is a lot of work and she really wants Martha to make the team so she can get closer to James and Aaron, and I just don't want to deal with the drama of it all."

"Right." Sarah frowned. "Look, Morgan, if it's gonna cause drama between you and the princesses, I can sack off the whole thing. I don't wanna get you into trouble over something as stupid as Quidditch."

"What? No!" Alex straightened up, outraged. "You're trying out and, furthermore, you're going to make the team, and if Grace and Martha don't like that then they can just-well… deal with it, I suppose."

The end of her sentence was lackluster and Sarah was looking very unimpressed.

"If you say so. But if you ask me, pissing those two off is way more trouble than it's—oh, hullo, Marshall. Lovely scarf."

This last was delivered with a layer of sarcasm so thick that at first Alex thought the compliment was genuine. It wasn't, of course, and Grace glowered at her.

"You're trying out," she stated blankly.

"Your observational skills are a thing of beauty, Marshall."

"Oh, Flynn," said Grace, looking at Sarah pityingly. "This is a Quidditch team, not a charity case. What on earth are you doing here? Do you honestly think you've got a chance?"

"I-well, I…"

But Sarah stuttered and was for once without words, and sent Alex a look that said Oh dear God what the fuck have you gotten me into?

"Grace, that's enough," Alex said sharply. "Being able to mount a broom alone should impress you, considering it took you two hours to get your broom up in first year, let alone being able to play Quidditch. Leave it alone, okay?"

Grace's cheeks flushed an angry red, and Sarah looked quite impressed despite her nerves. Thankfully they were saved from further awkwardness by James Potter yelling from the side of the pitch: "Oi! Maggots! Over here!"

Alex squeezed Sarah's arm and wished her luck, and (with a smile that came out more of a grimace) she departed with Martha to join their competition grouped around Potter.

"So… shall we go and get a seat then?" said Alex. Grace glared at her and stalked off to the stands; she sighed and followed after her.

"I can't control who tries out, Grace…"

"You know as well as I do that you're the only one around here that's got any sort of control over her."

"And who am I to tell her what she can and can't do? She told me she wanted to go for it and I could hardly force her not to, could I?"

It was of course a lie, but Grace didn't need to know that. As it was, she sighed and nodded, and Alex beamed brightly at this rare display of rationality from her best friend. The two found a space together near the top of the stands and patiently awaited trials to begin.

"Did you hear that the Muggle Studies classroom got trashed again this morning?" Grace asked. "I don't know how whoever's doing it keeps on getting past the teachers."

"I know," said Alex, frowning. "At first I thought it must be James, Fred, and Aaron, just because of the way these people are snaking around the teachers. But I don't think they'd do something like this. TPing girls dormitories maybe, but not committing hate crimes."

"I think it must be Slytherins," went Grace. "Zoey and I were talking about it the other day. Only they would be

"That is an incredibly outdated point of view, Grace…"

"Hullo, you two!" It was Hilary Ash. Bundled in a scarf, hat, cloak, gloves, and earmuffs, you'd think it was the middle of winter rather than early September (even if it was Scotland). "Oh, I'm glad you're here. Fliss refused to come down with me, said she had better things to do than watch morons make twats of themselves for James's entertainment—Oh, Grace, I love your scarf!"

This time the compliment was sincere, and Grace knew it and beamed.

"Thank you! You know, I've always liked those earmuffs of yours-where did you get them from, they look so much cuter than those stiff old things from Madame Malkins…"

The two girls chattered on as Alex kept her eyes trained on Sarah. It seemed as though James had decided on trying out the Seekers two at a time: whoever caught the Snitch first progressed onto the next level, until eventually there would only be two left.

"So," said Grace, once she had grown bored of spectating, "who are you rooting for, Hilary? I think Martha would make a fantastic addition to the team, don't you?"

"Martha? Oh no, that'd be horrific," replied Hilary cheerfully. "I want Sarah to get it."

It was tricky to stifle a laugh at the look on Grace's face, but Alex managed it.

Eventually, after a solid hour and a half of watching, Sarah was finally up.

Come on, Sarah...

Alex didn't have to worry. Despite Sarah's uncharacteristic state of utmost nervousness, she sailed through her first round without any trouble. Her competition had been fifth year Lila Poppelwell, and she had caught the Snitch within four minutes whilst Lila had been on the other side of the pitch.

"She's… rather good," Grace admitted grudgingly. "Oh, don't look so surprised. I can accept that. I still don't think she's going to make it though."

"Yes, you've made that very clear," said Alex dryly. "That was lovely of you to call her a charity case right before she tried out, by the way."

"Alex, dear, you're always so sensitive. I suppose I may have been a little harsh, but I was only supporting Martha."

"Couldn't you have supported Martha by just encouraging her rather than insulting her competition?" Grace looked nonplussed; Alex sighed. "Nevermind."

The hopefuls dwindled down. More and more hopefuls were sent away from the pitch as they failed to catch the Snitch, until eventually…

"Oh my God," Grace groaned. "Of course it would be those two."

For standing either side of Potter, both looking tired but very pleased for themselves, were Sarah and Martha; the former was prancing around excitedly whilst the latter looked like she would very much like to hit her.

"Alright," yelled James, clearly fed up, "last two. You know the drill: find the Snitch, catch it, do it fast. Ready?"

Both girls nodded their heads determinedly,and swung their legs over their brooms. James prepared the release the Snitch and, with a blast from his whistle, they were off.

It was a close run thing. Even Alex, who knew next to nothing about Quidditch, could see that. Both girls were onto the Snitch straight away, hurtling after it as it sped off across the stands, barely an inch between them. Everytime Sarah would come close to catching it, she would slip or swerve slightly and it would get further away; everytime Martha got close, she would hesitate and the Snitch would zoom out of reach again.

And then, all of a sudden, they were heading for the ground. The Snitch, so quick that it was barely visible, was shooting towards the bottom of one of the goal posts, and whilst both girls were on its tail, it quickly became apparent that a collision was forthcoming. Martha realised this and, seconds away from hitting the floor, pulled out of the dive.

Sarah didn't.

An almighty thud echoed throughout the stands as Sarah crashed into the ground, spraying dirt everywhere within a twenty feet radius and only narrowly avoiding the goalposts.

There was a moment, a rather terrifying moment, where everybody in the stands went quiet and Alex was quite positive that Sarah had gone and got herself killed trying to join the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Then there was movement from the pile of red Quidditch gear, and Sarah emerged, her scarlett attire stained green by the grass and a broad grin on her face as she raised her fist that held the golden Snitch.

"YES, SARAH!" Alex yelled delightedly, punching the air.

"Fucking brilliant," went Hilary, who wore a bright smile and was applauding enthusiastically.

Down on the pitch Lucas Philips and Roxanne Weasley rushed over to Sarah and overwhelmed her with hugs; Amelia Jordan had already stomped off to the changing rooms and Fred Weasley appeared to be giving a bitter-looking Martha a heart-to-heart whilst James fought past Lucas and Roxanne to check that his new Seeker was alright.

Alex wanted to go down and congratulate her friend, but instead she gazed cautiously at Grace.

"You alright?" she asked.

Grace shrugged. "Well, she won it fair and square. And I suppose it's not as though you forced her to try out or anything. I can't really be angry at you."

Grace gave her a small smile and Alex smiled back, feeling more than a little guilty, though before she could say anything they were interrupted by a loud clatter and a scream of delight.

"Al! Al, I did it, I fucking did it, what the fuck—" Sarah appeared, launching herself at Alex and flinging her arms around her with so much force that she actually staggered backwards. "Jesus Christ, Morgan, if it weren't for you I never would've even tried out, and now I'm on the fucking team! Bloody brilliant old hag, you are…"

And although Alex was very aware that Grace was still standing there registering every word, she was also so surprised to see Sarah so genuinely happy about something for once that it was hard to do anything but laugh along and hug her back.

But then Sarah left to go and sort out uniforms with Potter and Alex was left to face her best friend, who had a face like stone and a menacing glint in her eye.

"Um…"

Grace arched an eyebrow. "Oh, this had  _better_  be good…"

* * *

The courtyard was a popular place for students to entertain themselves in between lessons and mealtimes. There were plenty of spaces to sit around and an ideal location for friends in different houses to meet up and chat.

It was also where James, Fred, and Aaron could usually be found in the months when the Scottish weather wasn't biting enough to drive them inside. That particular afternoon, a week after the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts, they sat in their usual spot right in the middle of the courtyard up against the fountain with their dorm-mates, Sam Mason and Adam Kendall.

The latter two were getting on (or trying to get on) with the Transfiguration essay that Professor Hockley had set the previous day but it proved difficult to complete as the other three pissed about: Fred wrote a letter to his parents, James read a Quidditch magazine, and Aaron slowly made his way through a mountain of pasties but of course all three laughed and joked and mocked as they did so.

"So how's Flynn getting on, James?" Sam asked, glancing up from his essay.

"Y'know, she's actually pretty good," James replied, flicking through Which Broomstick?. "She needs a lot of work mind, but she's a plucky flier. Good laugh. Gets on pretty well with Jordan and Roxanne too, so I won't have any petty drama with the witches on the team."

"Damn sight better than if Ackerly had got it," Adam agreed. "It's be a drama a day with her on the team, and then you'd get Marshall sticking her nose in too. Aren't they all arguing in that dorm right now?"

"Probably," James snorted. "Think Flynn mentioned something about it the other day. Can't remember what she said though."

"Apparently Marshall and Ackerly are pissed off at Alex and refusing to speak to her, Flynn keeps on making it worse by antagonising them and making Alex angry—though apparently Alex never really gets angry at Sarah so that's all fine—Isobelle Honeymoon's so scared of the arguing that she won't come into their dorm and Hash keeps on trying to mediate but then gets yelled at straight away so she's stopped bothering," said Fred, not even glancing up from his writing.

The boys all stared at him, stunned.

"How the hell d'you know all that?" asked Sam incredulously.

"I cornered Fliss Parish in Care of Magical Creatures," he admitted, completely unabashed.

"Ah, the politics of girls dorm 6b," sighed Aaron. "I'm glad I don't know anything about it."

"You're too oblivious to anything but Aaron Peters to know anything about it," Fred told him, amused. "It's a good thing you don't have a girlfriend, y'know."

"He's lucky he doesn't have a girlfriend," James lamented. "It's awful. You have to be responsible, and buy them shit, and pay attention to what they say..."

"It's rather nice, being James Potter," Aaron said idly to Sam and Adam. "You get to complain about things like your girlfriend being too pretty, and your family being too rich and famous."

James hit him. "You hypocrite, yesterday you were moaning that girls were too focused on how good looking you are to notice what a 'great personality' you have as well!"

"He's a compulsive liar too. I never said that, did I, Fred?"

He absolutely had (and two more times after James had left the room too) but Fred shook his head and said innocently, "No, not that I can remember."

"Liar. You always take his side," James moaned. "It's unfair. It's not my fault that I'm so great that people get jealous and turn on me."

"Oh, shut up, Potter," went Aaron, and he whacked James's head. James gave a cry of outrage and shoved Aaron's shoulder. Aaron kicked him. James kicked back. Then, somehow, the pair were rolling around on the floor, James whacking, and Aaron attempting to get a good kick in, both of them shouting, and everyone in the courtyard looked over in interest to see what was going on.

"Say you're sorry, you little shit-"

"I won't apologise for speaking the truth, Peters-"

"Insufferable hag—"

"Horny old trollop—"

"Oi!" Fred yelled before looking at them hopelessly. "Hag and trollop? Really?"

James was sitting on Aaron, looking triumphant and not at all as though he was going to move anytime soon, a smug smile stretched across his face.

Aaron was face down on the ground with James's hand keeping him firmly in place.

"Umph," he went. "Ame gerroff 'ou itta teghh."

"No, I don't think so," said James absently, who apparently had no difficulty understanding his loony best mate.

Fred wondered why it was always so chaotic with those two. He couldn't even read a book without one of their chins on his shoulder, demanding to know why he would rather read when he could otherwise be basking in the gloriousness of James Potter and Aaron Peters, and their unbridled insanity.

Then again, he supposed as he gazed at the pair who were now bickering over whether or not James would move his arse so it wasn't on Aaron's head, his life would be very boring otherwise.

"D'you reckon if I asked Felicity Parish on a date she'd say yes?" Adam wondered, as though James wasn't sitting on top of Aaron. After five years he was used to their behaviour.

Aaron snorted. "Are you joking? It'd be safer to ask a basilisk on a date than Fliss Parish." Then to James: "Oi, watch where you put your feet. You're making my trousers dirty."

"They were already dirty," Fred pointed out. "Those are the trousers you wore when you went into the Forbidden Forest yesterday."

"Oh yeah. When you dared me to catch a bugbear."

"Dare you? I didn't dare you. I explicitly told you not to go into the forest to catch a bugbear and you said 'Don't tell me what to do, Fred', and went into the forest to catch a bugbear! Which you didn't even do…"

"I nearly did," said Aaron mournfully. "I would have done, if the Scamander twins hadn't told on me to Hagrid. Remind me to hex them later."

"You're not hexing anyone-"

"Oi!" Adam yelled, sitting up. "Back to me. Fliss Parish. What should I do?"

"I dunno, mate," said Fred. "I heard that Oscar Kettler tried asking her out the other day and she threatened to curse off his unmentionables."

Sam blanched. "Oh Christ."

"Bloody fuck, maybe I'll ask out Hash instead…"

"James, why the hell are you sitting on Aaron?"

It was Albus, James's younger brother and Fred's cousin.

"Teaching him a lesson," James replied, as though that were entirely normal. "Oi, Sam, Adam, this is Albus, the son our dad wishes I was."

"Shut up, James," Albus said, scowling a bit. Whilst the two brothers had never not got on exactly, there had always been a certain amount of tension between them which their parents had put down to an age difference and which Fred had put down to James being a massive tit. "Look, I was just having tea with Neville—"

"Of course you were…"

"—and you missed it  _again_. Where were you?"

"I had Quidditch practice. I've got a new Seeker to train, y'know."

"You're a liar. I spoke to Roxy just now and she said that you had practice last night and the next one isn't 'til two more days."

Now James looked annoyed. It wasn't that he disliked Neville. Fred knew that. It was more that they were two completely different people. Neville didn't indulge James like so many of the other adults in his life did, and he couldn't have a laugh with him like he could with his own godfather. Whilst Albus was most certainly Neville's godson, James was definitely Ron's. It didn't help that Neville also had a (admittedly fair) habit of telling James when he was acting like a prat.

"Look, Al, I see Neville every damn time I go to a Herbology lesson. That's two times a week. More than enough time to catch up."

Albus rose his eyes to the heavens with a pained sort of look. Fred sympathised entirely.

"Well, what about Mum and Dad? Teddy told me that you haven't wrote to them at all this year. They're gonna get worried-"

"It's been all of three weeks and you and Lily have both been writing to them." He grimaced. "We can't all be the model son that you turned out to be, Al."

"Just write them a damn letter, James," Albus snapped, looking thoroughly annoyed now. "It's not fucking difficult."

James said, petulantly, "No."

Albus turned to Fred with pleading, exasperated eyes, and he nodded. Their cousin and brother may have been the most infuriatingly stubborn person that they had ever encountered, but more often than not James would listen to Fred. If he told him to get his head out of his arse and write to Uncle Harry, he would.

"Thank you," he mouthed at Fred, before turning to his brother and going, "Alright, James, you win. I'll let you know the next time I meet Neville so you can not show up and lie about it afterwards."

And, rolling his eyes, he left.

"You do know that you're a dick, right, James?" Fred asked lightly.

"Yeah, I sort of do," he replied, and he even looked a bit guilty. "Well, lucky for you, Aaron, I'm already ten minutes late meeting Maya. I hope you've used this time to reflect upon your actions and do better in the future…"

"Oh, fuck off."

James grinned, helped Aaron to his feet, and, waving them all a cheery goodbye, sauntered off with a distinct lack of urgency for someone who was already ten minutes late.

Aaron collapsed onto the side of the fountain and glanced at Fred. "You're not going anywhere, are you?"

He checked his watch. "I have a Gobstones meeting in an hour."

"Sound, I'll come with you. I'm sick at Gobstones."

"Absolutely not," said Fred firmly. "You and James are allowed nowhere near my Gobstones and Chess meetings."

"We went before," said Aaron. "We had a great time. It wasn't our fault that girls skirt caught on fire."

"No."

Aaron pouted but let it go, and Fred returned to his magazine. Sam and Adam got on with their work,

Fred tensed. He knew the signs. James had left and now Aaron was bored and needed some form of entertainment.

He gazed around the courtyard, looking for any source of amusement, and soon enough his eyes landed on the group of Ravenclaw seventh years sitting on the edge of the courtyard: Donald Finch, Hareton Flume, and Alfie Hope. The tapping of his wand sped up. He glanced at Fred.

"Y'know Clio Smith told me that Donald Finch was making fun of you in the Ravenclaw common room the other day," he said casually. "Calling you a nerd or some bullshit like that for being captain of the Chess and Gobstones clubs."

"Yeah? Well, we make fun of him too. I'd say we're even."

Aaron merely grinned, far too mischievous to be innocent, and Fred had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

No more than two minutes later Donald Finch's were growing fatter and fatter, subtly at first, until they had become so big that his trousers split. His two legs merged together, turning green and slimy, until...

"A slug?" Adam laughed, shaking his head in appreciation. "What the hell."

Fred had no doubt that Donald Finch making fun of him would have enraged Aaron. He also knew that Finch wasn't the nicest of wizards. But he was also no fool and knew that even if these two things weren't the case that Aaron would have found some reason to pick on him anyway.

Sam and Adam laughed at Donald's cry of outrage as he realised what had happened, and so did many others. In fact, the laughter only stopped when there was a loud bang and Aaron's wand flew from his hand and clattered onto the ground a few feet away.

Fred had expected it to be Albus. He had hoped it would be Albus. With him they could all smile and look sheepish and get away with it, and whilst he would be exasperated with them he'd let it go and not give Fred a hard time for not trying harder to stop them.

It wasn't Albus. Instead they were face to face with an extremely pissed off Alex Morgan.

"Oh, bravo," she said sarcastically, shoving her wand back into her robes. "Very impressive display. Incredibly brave that, ganging up on someone four on one."

"Well, technically it was just one on one, since I'm the only one here with my wand out," said Aaron casually, the corners of his mouth turning up.

Fred muttered to him, "I swear to Merlin, if you start laughing because of some stupid innuendo right now, Aaron…"

The other seventh year Ravenclaws gathered around Donald in a panic without a clue of how to go about undoing the spell. Alex obviously didn't know how to either, and it did not improve her temper.

Sam put up his hands in mock surrender, his mouth curved into his usual easy-going smile. "Sorry, Alex. Won't happen again, I swear."

"Right. Sorry, Alex," Adam added for good measure, looking appropriately abashed.

Aaron, however, rolled his eyes. "Oh, of course Saint Morgan intervenes," he marvelled, with the air of one suffering from a great misfortune. "Taking a break from rescuing kittens from trees and helping little old ladies cross the road, are you?"

"You are an insufferable, arrogant little buffoon," Alex informed him, her lip curling in disdain. "You pick on people you don't like and think you can get away with it just because you're popular. It's vile!"

"It's funny," he countered, gesturing around him. "People laughed!"

"It's not funny. You humiliated him. You turned him into half a slug!"

"That I did," he agreed. "But he looks so much more handsome now, don't you think? A lot better than those chicken legs he had before."

The surrounding students laughed again, and with a final look of complete and utter infuriation, Alex turned and stormed off towards the Entrance Hall, and Fred stared after her dismally.

He couldn't let it go.

"Alex! Hey, Alex—wait!"

She paused by the doors, a wary look on her face.

"Weasley, honestly, I don't want to hear it."

He reached her by the entrance, his face burning with embarrassment. He was well aware that many of the surrounding students were listening. "Look, I'm really sorry. I swear, I tried to stop it, I know he's your mate—"

"That is completely besides the point." She folded her arms and looked at him in a way that was reminiscent of his grandmother. God, why did she make him feel this way? Stupid and clumsy and completely fucking insignificant. "The point is that you think you can get away with hexing someone, even if it is a seventh year, without any consequences. Its bullshit."

"I know, I'm sorry," he said desperately. "It's-it's not me, I swear, Alex. I wasn't the one who hexed Finch, that was Aaron-"

"How are you any better?" she snapped. "Fine, you don't join in. So what? You still stand there doing nothing, just letting them doing whatever the hell they want because they're your friends, so I have to step in and be the bad guy!" She stopped and sighed, and rubbed her temple. "This is stupid. I'm not having this same argument with you over and over, Weasley. Asking me out over and over in what must be a blatant attempt to embarrass me in front of everyone is one thing; acting like a martyr whilst your friends are bullying people is another, and I'm sick of it. You, Fred Weasley, are pathetic and spineless, and I want nothing to do with you! And for God's sake, someone take Donald to the Hospital Wing already!"

With that she whipped around and marched inside, chestnut flying behind her, and the Entrance Hall slammed shut amid a chorus of "Oooo's" from onlookers. Aaron appeared by his side.

"Sorry, mate," he said, looking very guilty. "I didn't mean for you to get into trouble with Morgan."

"Yeah, I know. It's okay."

But Fred's tone was filled with dejection and the fact didn't pass Aaron by. He clapped his hand on his best friend's shoulder. "Look, the girl's crazy if she can't tell what a stand-up bloke you are. She'll come around, you'll see. C'mon, let's go to that Gobstones meeting, yeah? Swear I won't set anyone on fire again."

Aaron was a difficult person to say no to; he had a magnetic sort of energy that meant that all he had to was smile for the world to run to his every whim. Fred was no exception, and so despite the heavy pit in his stomach and the fact that his cheeks were still burnt red from embarrassment, he smiled and said, "Oh, alright. Though if you cost me my captaincy, Peters, I'm telling Fliss Parish that you're the one who sold her History of Magic encyclopaedia for gillyweed money."

Aaron beamed. "Can't say fairer than that."

* * *

James was late. Of course, this wasn't unusual. James was normally late. It was always with some stupid justification or other too—usually involving Aaron Peters.

Honestly, Aaron was more of a girlfriend to him than Maya was.

Maya sat there in the library, feeling stupider by the second. After all, she was Maya Fawley. She was pretty, and popular, and she didn't wait around for anyone. Except apparently she did, because there she was, still sitting there, and now James was twenty minutes late.

Finally he arrived (half an hour late) with a charming sort of abashment and an excuse as chaotic as his hair. She smiled and said not to worry, and fought the urge to mention that two seventh year boys had asked her out that evening and she had politely told them that she had a boyfriend.

Because sometimes it felt like James didn't even consider that she might have other options.

"So, how's your day been?" he asked, leaning back and stretching out his legs.

"Oh, you know. The usual." She perked up as she remembered something she had meant to tell him for a while. "Hey, guess what? My parents want to meet you. They asked me to invite you to our Christmas Eve party this year. Isn't that wonderful?"

James looked surprised. "You've told you parents about me?"

"What do you mean?" Maya laughed. "We've been seeing each other for a year. Of course I've mentioned you." She peered up at him over her books, amused. "Am I to take it you haven't told your parents about me, then?"

"Yeah! Well—technically Albus and Lily did. But I would have." He grinned at her, rather adorably, and she felt her stomach swoop.

"I'm sure you're right, dear. What was the verdict?"

"Well, Lily absolutely loves you, don't ask me why, so she bigged you up loads... Oh, and Al told her that you're Alex's cousin too, so you're definitely in with the family."

Maya felt herself frowning. "Alex? What has Alex got to do with anything?" Whilst she didn't have anything against her cousin specifically, there had always been a sort of unmentioned rivalry between them; their family absolutely fawned over Alex. She certainly didn't want her cousin outshining her with the Potter family too.

"She reckons you could put in a good word for Fred to her."

"Right. Of course." She paused. "Your mum really cares that much?"

"Mum dotes on Fred," said James. "It's disgusting. She always brings out the good biscuits when he's over. I'm talking malted mokes, ginger newts, fucking shortbread…"

"Mmm," she said, deep in thought. She had yet to meet James's family. She, like the rest of their world, had heard much about the Potters, though how much of it was true and how much was lies she did not know. James didn't like to talk about them much either, so she never got any information from him.

"How's things with your dad?" she probed.

He shifted. "Fine," he said awkwardly. "Y'know… nothing to report."

She frowned. She knew from Dom that James had been having problems with his father. Something about Mr Potter being unimpressed with his antics at school. And at home. And everywhere he went, really. Or was it that James was fed up with having a famous father? Was it both? She couldn't remember. The point was that she should know because James ought to have told her. But he hadn't.

"You know you can tell me things, James," she said, leaning forward so that her long chestnut hair brushed the desktop. "Right?

"Uh… I guess so?"

"Because I'm here for you, for whatever you need. If you want to talk ever, about anything, I'll always be around to listen. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know." He was clearly uncomfortable and so when he made a blatant attempt to change the subject Maya let him. "Hey, I never congratulated you on making the Ravenclaw team, did I? How's life as a Chaser?"

She beamed. "Pretty great actually. The team have all been so nice to me—Henry even organised a dinner in the kitchens the night I made the team to welcome me."

"Mmm. What kind of captain is he?"

She smiled. "Oh, absolutely not. I'm not letting slip any team secrets, James Potter. Besides, I would have thought you knew everything by now from your and Aaron's spying…"

"We only spied on them once, and then we stopped because we found out that the Ravenclaw Quidditch team is bloody boring," James dismissed. He ruffled his hair (Maya suspected that approximately three girls in watching distance swooned) and added casually, "Has he asked you anything about me?"

"What? No, of course not." She studied James, who blinked innocently, and was instantly suspicious. "Why would he do that?"

"Oh, no reason. So he uh… he hasn't asked anything about the Gryffindor team at all, then?"

"No, he hasn't." She bit her lip. "Do you think that's why Henry choose me? So I could spy on you?"

"Huh? Nah, 'course not! You're a great flyer." But James sounded far too defensive, and Maya had seen her boyfriend lie to the teachers too many times to fail to realise that he was lying to her now.

"It is, isn't it?! Oh, God!" But rather than get upset or teary as she usually prone to doing, Maya felt a surge of anger. "You, James Potter, are unbelievable! You really think that I'm not good enough to be able to make the team on my own?!"

"No—Maya, look, that wasn't what I meant…"

"God, everything's just got to be about you, doesn't it? James Potter, with your famous family, and your Quidditch team, and your stupid mates that you love so much! Thirty minutes late, and I bet it was because you were too busy dicking around with Aaron bloody Peters again! God, I'm so sick of it!"

She stuffed her things away into her bag as she spoke, and with a final withering glance at her boyfriend, stalked away in a fashion so dramatic that it would have made even Aaron proud.

James stared after Maya and for a moment he considered chasing after her. Then he realised that this meant that he could go and rejoin Aaron and Fred. His face split into a grin and he jumped to his feet.

James Potter was not a very good boyfriend.

* * *

Sarah was fed up. She had spent the entire day in the company of Chris, Davey Corner, and the rest of their friends in some dingy corridor near the Hufflepuff common room, and thus had to endure what felt like a million taunts about being the newest member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. True they weren't the most creative of insults—they were mostly to do with her being Potter's new bit on the side—but they were enough to get under her skin.

It didn't escape her attention that her brother was doing less and less to stem the mockery.

Luckily when she got to the dorm it was only Alex there, lying flat on her bed and staring up at the canopy with a frown.

"Oh God," Sarah said, flopping onto her bed, "I know that look. Did someone flout the school dress code again?"

She ducked as Alex launched a shoe in her direction.

"Ha ha ha. No, actually. And when did you learn what flout means?"

"Heard Pritchard using it when he had a go at Potter in potions the other day." Sarah stared at her friend, a little bemused. "What's wrong?"

Alex sighed. "Oh, nothing really. I argued with Fred again. Aaron hexed Isaac Selwyn in front of everyone in the courtyard."

"Good. Isaac Selwyn's a tit." Sarah ducked again as Alex threw the other shoe at her. "I mean, oh no, how awful."

"Touching that," said Alex wryly, and she returned to staring up at the canopy.

Sarah had a feeling that another altercation with the Gryffindor boys wasn't the actual reason for her friends gloom, but figured that Alex would tell her what was really bothering her eventually.

And so she went about her business, which mainly involved shoving her things from her bed to the floor and slumping face first onto her pillows, the mud from her shoes staining the duvet. She could practically hear Alex's horrified shudder.

It was about ten minutes, maybe less, before it came. The long sigh, the agitated tap of feet against the bedpost, and then—

"Did you hear the Muggle Studies classroom was vandalised again this morning?" Alex asked.

Sarah almost smirked. "Yeah, I did. Davey was laughing about it earlier."

Alex's mouth pulled into a disapproving frown, though as always she refrained from commenting on Sarah's friends. "It's awful. I feel so sorry for Professor Artemis. He looked so tired at dinner."

"Artie always looks tired. But yeah, it's a pretty shitty thing to do." Sarah peered at the prefect, who was now sitting up and looking rather thoughtful, from between the messy blonde strands. "Alexandra Deidre Morgan, what are you getting at?"

"You know my middle name's Clarissa," went Alex, but she didn't look annoyed. She looked frightened. "Sarah, something's happening. It's all I've been thinking about the past week. Shacklebolt's ill, there's riots across the country, the papers are blaming the Muggles, and now the Muggle Studies classroom is being destroyed! It can't be coincidence, it can't be, and no-one's doing anything, and I'm fucking scared. Aren't you?"

Sarah blinked in surprise (mainly because Alex had said the word 'fuck') and said, "I—well… I dunno. I hadn't really thought about it. I mean, stuff like this, its not for people like us. The Ministry deals with it, the Aurors, the teachers. We're just kids, we don't do anything about this kind of stuff."

Alex sat there for a moment, and then said, "Well, maybe we should."

"Should what?"

"Do something about this."

She stared at her. "You're serious about this?"

"Absolutely."

Sarah got up and went to join her on her bed. "Alright," she said at length, "so, not to put down our abilities or anything but, y'know, we're sixteen so I don't think there's much we could do about whatever the hell's going on outside Hogwarts." She paused. "So we try and find whoever's fucking up the classroom."

"Tough job. The teacher's have been having enough trouble."

"Yeah, well, their teachers. Mostly they're swotty and pretentious and don't have the mind of the obnoxious and devious sixteen or seventeen year old that's probably doing this. This is a students job."

"That's pretty much what I've been thinking," Alex admitted. "But I don't think we could do it on our own. This requires a certain… finesse. We need someone who really knows the castle, who's not afraid to get into trouble, and who's experienced in sneaking around at night."

"Well, yeah. But who d'you think…" Sarah's mouth fell open and she gazed at Alex, gobsmacked. "Hang on. You don't mean…"

"Yes," said Alex grimly, a determined look in her eyes. "I'm going to ask Potter, Peters, and Weasley for help."


	5. Rigby and Selwyn

Rigby and Selwyn

"Oh God," said Alex, staring at the large wooden door with the word Dormitory 6A etched on a golden plaque. "I can't do it. I can't go in there."

"And yet," Sarah drawled, smirking slightly, "you also can't stand there staring at a fucking door all day."

She went to reach out to knock on the door, but Alex stopped her.

"No!" she yelped, tugging on her sleeve. "You can't just go barging into their dormitory!"

Sarah stared at her. "Why not?"

And before Alex could say anything, she'd banged loudly on the door and swung it open without waiting for an invitation.

The room was, as expected, filthy. There were clothes and rubbish strewn everywhere, ash littered the floor, and there was a certain aroma in the air that wasn't necessarily bad but certainly not pleasant either.

Clearly Sarah had seen worse, however, as she sauntered into the room without batting an eyelid and stood right in the middle, looking only mildly disgusted. Of the seven boys living in the dormitory only five were there: Liam Pipps and Bobby Matthews' beds were both empty. God knew where they were that early on a Saturday morning.

"Whossat?" Adam Kendall's voice was groggy as he lifted his head up. "Matthews, is that you?"

Sam Mason was the first to realise who was intruding in their dormitory.

"Oi!" He looked scandalised and pulled his sheets right up to his chin. "What're you two doing in here? You're girls!""

"Oh, calm down, Mason, we're not going to faint at the sight of your prepubescent chest." Sarah rolled her eyes at Alex, who was hovering nervously near the door.

"What the fuck?!"

Fred had emerged, looking bleary-eyed as he stuck his head out from between the curtains of his four poster, his mouth agape at the sight of Alex in his dormitory. "Am I dreaming?"

"I dunno. Would I be here if you were?" asked Sarah, amused.

"Good point. What  _are_ you doing in here?"

Sarah looked at Alex, who said, "Well, actually… we wanted to talk to you, James, and Aaron."

If possible, Fred's jaw dropped even further. Sam and Adam were the pinnacle of shock, and had Bobby Matthews or Liam Pipps been in the dormitory to witness it, they would surely have been awed by her words too.

"You… want to talk… to me?"

Alex bit her lip. "Yes."

"And James and Aaron?"

"Well, we're not standing in here for leisure," Sarah started to say, but someone cut her off.

"Oh my  _God_ , why is everyone making so much fucking noise?" The voice, coming from the messiest part of the room, was bleary and croaky and thoroughly irritated.

"Alex and Flynn are here," said Fred, sounding dazed. "They want to talk to us."

"To  _us_?!" Aaron Peters sat up with impressive speed and poked his head out from between his curtains. When he saw for himself that it was indeed Sarah and Alex who stood there his eyes widened. "What for?"

Alex glanced towards the final bed, where James still slept. "We should probably wait for- _Oh my God,_ what is that?!"

For emerging from a pile of smelly Quidditch robes was one of the strangest-looking animals Alex had ever seen, even by magical standards. It most closely resembled a niffler, but a forked tongue and a foot long tail gave it the overall impression of a large furry lizard.

"That?" Aaron glanced around and saw the creature by his bed. "Oh, that's just Miffy. He's our dorm pet."

Fred clambered out of bed and approached 'Miffy', who immediately leapt into his lap and started nuzzling his chest; Fred beamed. "He's cool, isn't he? Got him from the forest. We  _think_ Hagrid's bred him illegally, a cross between a moke and a niffler, y'know, but so far he hasn't let anything slip to us and we don't want him to know that we have him…"

"You  _stole_ it from the forest?!" Alex looked aghast.

"We  _rescued_ it from the forest," Aaron corrected her. "See, look how happy he is. He fucking  _loves_ Fred."

"Hi there, Miffy," Fred cooed, stroking his head. "You hungry?" Alex, Adam, and Sam looked revolted.

"How the hell have you gotten away with having that thing in here with  _Bobby Matthews_?" Sarah asked.

Aaron laughed. "Oh, we've got something on him at the moment. Probably best you don't know." He had woken up remarkably quickly and was now bouncing around like a six year old. "Right. Who's going to wake up James?"

"I'm out," said Adam hurriedly, throwing on some clothes.

"Breakfast would be a great idea, come to think of it," Sam agreed as he jumped out of bed, and in a flash the two were out the door.

"Cowards," said Aaron disdainfully, looking after the two boys. " _I'll_ do it."

"Don't piss him off too much, Aaron," Fred warned. "You know what he's like in the morning."

Of course, Aaron paid no heed. There were a number of things he was scared of—his mother, spiders, occasionally Darrell Adler when she was angry—but James Potter was not one of them.

"OI!" he bellowed, and he launched himself through the closed curtains and onto James's bed.

As it turns out Fred needn't have worried, for all Aaron's shouting and flinging himself about did was cause James to groan a bit and roll over; he still remained, for all intents and purposes, thoroughly dead to the world.

They tried a variety of tactics to get James up: throwing water over him, pulling off his duvet, trailing Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans over his head and setting Miffy loose (his favourite, according to Fred), but nothing seemed to work.

At long last, after ten minutes of trying, he rolled over and the girls were blessed with the sight of the infamous James Potter in all his gloriousness first thing in the morning.

It wasn't pretty.

Clad like Aaron in only a pair of boxers, there was a substantial amount of drool running down his chin and his hair (messy enough in normal circumstances) would have been easy to mistake for a birds nest. His eyes were red and hazy with sleep, and there was ash all over his chest and blankets.

"Oh,  _gross_ ," went Sarah before she could stop herself. Alex shoved her.

"We're sort of here for their help?" she reminded her.

"Oh yeah. You have lovely spit, Potter. Really matches your eyes."

James sat up and wiped his chin. "Need I remind you that I'm your  _captain,_ Flynn? What the fuck are you two doing in here?"

Aaron and Fred both made themselves at home, sprawling themselves across James's bed and Alex perched herself on the end. Sarah remained leaning against his bedpost, arms crossed.

"God, James, are you smoking in  _bed_ now?" Fred rolled his eyes. "Nanna would die on the fucking spot if she knew."

"Yeah, well, I charmed it so the smoke didn't escape anywhere."

"You hotboxed your bed?" Aaron cracked up. "God, I fucking love you, Jimmy."

Sarah scratched her chin. "Y'know, that's actually not a bad idea…"

"Absolutely not, Sarah," said Alex firmly.

"And here's the famous Alex Morgan Lecture," Aaron ribbed, grinning at her. "Do you  _ever_ change?"

"Nah, this is growth," said Sarah. "If she'd heard that a year ago she'd probably be having an aneurysm."

Alex rolled her eyes. "I am  _not_ the goody-two-shoes you lot make me out to be."

"That remains to be decided," Aaron mused, earning himself a whack.

"Okay, seriously." James looked around at them all. "What the  _fuck_ is going on?"

The two girls glanced at each other.

"Well," Alex began, an impish smile on her face, "to put it in your words, I'm on my latest do-gooding mission, and this time I'm dragging you all into it with me."

Sarah snorted with laughter, Fred still looked bewildered, and James and Aaron were staring at each other stupidly.

"Your do-gooding… what?"

"The Muggle Studies classroom," Sarah drawled. "We want to know who did it. Actually scratch that-we want to catch whoever's doing it in the act, we want everyone to know what arseholes they are, and we don't want the fucking teachers finding out what we're doing."

"Oh, nothing too big then," went Aaron sarcastically.

"You saying you don't want to know?"

"I'm mildly curious. But that doesn't mean I want to stick my neck out on the line to find out. Why should I care if some knobhead is messing up a classroom?"

Alex's eyes flashed. "Because this is bigger than just some vandalised classroom! Didn't you read that stupid article in the Prophet? Muggles are being attacked and villainized, you do realise that, don't you? Or do you just not care…"

"Don't act like I don't give a fuck about Muggles," Aaron interrupted. "My whole family are Muggles. I care about what happened to them. And sorry, Morgan, but I thought we were all immature morons who never did anything worthwhile with our lives?"

"So here's your chance to do something worthwhile," she shot back. "Can you actually bring yourself to do it?"

"You know, if we actually pull this thing off, we're gonna have to break about ten school rules. Can  _you_ bring yourself to do that? We wouldn't want that halo over your head to explode after all…"

Fred hit him. "Shut up, Aaron. I'm in. For once we're not doing something that's completely stupid and moronic."

"Well, let's not entirely rule out stupid and moronic, Frederick," said James fairly. "If we're gonna pull this off I reckon we'll need a fair amount of both." He grinned. "I'm  _definitely_ in."

They all looked at Aaron, who raised his hands in the air.

"Hey, I never said I wouldn't do it. I just wanted to make sure we were all clear on Morgan's hypocrisy."

"Excellent." James beamed at his friend whilst Alex rolled her eyes again. "Alright then. We'll have a think about it and get back to you."

She looked outraged. "What? You said you were in!"

"Yeah, and we are. But despite what you two apparently think, we don't have some kind of mystical knowledge of the school that means we know every single thing that happens in this God damn castle. We need to talk it through first. Work out how we're gonna do this." James grinned at her lazily. "Don't worry, Morgan. I'd never leave  _you_ hanging out to dry."

Alex sighed and stood up. "Oh, alright. I suppose we don't really have a choice. C'mon, Sarah I'm hungry.

"Yeah, alright, I'm fucking starving." Sarah grinned at the boys and slung an arm around Alex's shoulder. "See you fuckheads later."

The two girls left and as soon as the door was shut Aaron looked to James. "We're really doing this?" he asked.

"Yeah. I think we should. Whoever's doing this is an arsehole and they deserve to get caught out." James regarded Aaron curiously. "You really think it's that weird we'd want to do this?"

"'Well, yeah. Usually we're the ones causing the trouble, not solving it."

"This is different," said Fred. "This isn't hexing Tiberius Evermonde for being a git or playing some stupid prank. It isn't a coincidence that this is happening just as that damn Prophet article came out. Whoever's doing this is making a statement."

"And we're going to make our own statement," James added, a broad grin on his face. "Mainly that  _we're_ the only ones that can fuck shit up around this school. You definitely in, Aaron mate? Cause we're only gonna do this if all three of us are doing it."

"Yeah, I reckon so." He shrugged and grinned at Fred. "Well, whatever happens, at least this should get you into Morgan's good books, right, Freddie?"

Fred blushed and smiled a bit, and James saved his cousin replying by saying, "So we all know whoever's doing this is using the secret passageway from that unused classroom on the fourth floor that leads to Muggle Studies?"

"He must be," Fred agreed. "Can't see any other way he'd get in there with teachers standing guard outside the door. The windows are charmed so no one can jump out…"

"And the fifth floor is too high up to get in without flying, and anyone using a broom to get in that's  _not_ us would get seen," James said.

Aaron nodded. "Alright. Seems like there's two things to be getting on with then. Finding out the pattern for what night it's happening on…"

"And figuring out how they're getting around the guards outside," James finished. The other two concurred, and from where he was curled up against Aaron, Miffy let out a yelp.

"That's right, Miffy," said Fred cheerfully, swinging his legs over the bed, "we've got work to do."

* * *

Sarah ate dinner alone that night. Chris was conspicuously absent from the Great Hall, as were Davey and the rest of their gang, and she hadn't seen Alex since that morning.

It didn't matter. She wasn't alone for long.

"Evening, Flynn," said Aaron Peters, who sat next to her and promptly took a handful of chips from her plate.

"Seriously, Peters?" Sarah asked grumpily, unsuccessfully swiping for her chips back. "We're in the Great fucking Hall, surrounded by enough food to fill even your big fat head, and you're still stealing from my plate?"

"You," said Aaron, licking his fingers, "are a  _delight_ , Sarah Flynn. Tell me, why don't you have a boyfriend again?"

"Fuck you…"

"Not very lady-like to swear, either…"

"I don't  _think_ I count as a lady."

Aaron gazed at her seriously. "Trans?" he asked, and she cracked up.

"Alright. What do you want?"

He grinned. "I'm here to pass on a message. James says that Quidditch practice is cancelled tonight due to other obligations."

Sarah was surprised. "Other obligations? It's fucking Potter-what obligation does he have that's more important than…" It dawned. " _Oh_."

"And there we go."

"Already?"

"Tonight," he confirmed. "We snuck a look at the teachers patrols and-if we're right-tonight's the night that they're going to do it again."

"And how the fuck did you get a look at the teachers patrols?"

Aaron merely grinned. "Meet us in the classroom on the fourth floor-y'know, the one by the tapestry of Cassius the Confused-at eleven. Let Morgan know too."

And with a reassuring wink he got up and went to join Oscar Kettler, Augustus Smith, and Darrell Adler at the Slytherin table.

* * *

Somehow that evening Sarah managed to lose track of time, and at half past ten realised that she still hadn't relayed Aaron's message to Alex.

She looked in the dormitory but it was empty, and a quick glance in the common room told her that Alex wasn't there either. Hilary and Fliss were, however, and so Sarah went over to them.

"Oi. D'you you two know where Alex is?"

"Go away," said Fliss shortly, not even glancing up from her writing and Hilary hit her; Sarah didn't take it personally, as Fliss hated everyone apart from Hilary.

"Felicity Parish,  _what_ did we talk about last night? Wait until you're at least  _five_ minutes into a conversation before you start acting like a bitch."

"I tried that. It didn't work. Pritchard paired me with Aaron Peters in Potions this afternoon," Fliss replied sulkily; Hilary rolled her eyes.

"She's in the library," she told Sarah. "With Henry. They're doing Charms homework, I think."

"Cheers, Hash."

And so Sarah set off for the library, a place that she spent nearly as much time in as her own dormitory these days, sprinting past first years desperate to get back to their common rooms before it was after hours and only narrowly missing mowing down Zoey Zabini as she ploughed through the second floor.

Bursting through the library doors (Madame Pince looked scandalised) she legged it down the aisles until she reached the back of the library where she skidded to a halt in front of Alex and Henry's desk.

"Hullo, Fuckface. Long time no see."

Henry looked up outraged, but Alex laughed at the greeting. "Hello, Sarah. And what can I do for you?"

"Got a message for ya. Potter's cancelled Quidditch practice and wants to meet us on the fourth floor corridor in about… oh, five minutes ago."

" _Of course_ …"

Henry looked between the pair looking decidedly displeased. "What? You're meeting Potter's lot somewhere? Why? What for?"

"Celibacy meeting," Sarah said immediately. "Aaron runs it. I told Alex that she doesn't really need to go, given that the unattractiveness of her boyfriend should already be enough incentive to stay abstinent, but she insists the poor thing."

Alex whacked her before Henry had a chance to figure out what she had said. "I'm sorry Henry, but I've got to go. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"But I-" Henry started but Alex had already given him a swift kiss on the cheek and started dragging Sarah down the aisle.

"Bye, King," she called out with a wave, and he slammed his book shut with an ugly look on his face.

* * *

Sarah and Alex were fifteen minutes late for meeting the boys, but it didn't matter as the classroom was still empty when they arrived anyway.

"Typical," Alex sighed, settling down onto one of the chairs. "I wonder where they've been all day, they weren't in Potions or Herbology."

"Yeah, Fred and Aaron both sacked Care of Magical Creatures too," said Sarah as she hopped onto the desk opposite.

"You don't think that they're missing lessons for this, do you?" Alex asked worriedly. "I don't want them to get detention on our behalf or anything."

Sarah laughed. "Al, those three skip class if they're  _hungry_. I don't reckon they need much of an excuse." She thought for a moment and then asked, "Hey, d'you reckon this'll end in a duel? I'm guessing whoever's doing this won't go down quietly."

Alex smiled wickedly. "I  _hope_ so."

Sometimes Sarah forgot that her friend had an mischievous side to her nature; it was so easy to get lost in the meticulous prefect facade and fail to remember that Alex Morgan was also the girl who help James, Fred, and Aaron break into Professor Hockley's classroom in second year and hexed Nathaniel Hynes for tripping up little Cathy Hope.

"Hey, how's Marshall?"

"She's simmering down. Although I'm sure it's just a matter of time before I annoy her again."

"Real healthy friendship you've got going there, Al…"

Their conversation ceased as the door opened and Fred Weasley walked in, quite alone.

"Alright?" he greeted them, friendly as ever.

"It's just you?" ask Sarah, her shoulders sagging.

He smiled wryly. "Contain your other two will be here any minute. I ran into James on my way here and apparently they're running a bit late."

"Why are they late?" Alex asked, but Fred gave her the kind of look that said he-didn't-want-to-know-and-she-shouldn't-either and so she left it.

As the minutes wore on and the two missing miscreants remained missing, Fred and Sarah chattered on about Quidditch and Alex sat there fiddling with the hem of her skirt as she listened, absent-mindedly wondering when the hell Sarah had gotten so bloody  _friendly_ with their housemates. She didn't think she had ever seen the girl laugh and joke with someone that wasn't Chris or herself.

"Are they  _definitely_ coming?" she said at last, when talk of Wronski Feints and Sloth Grip Rolls became too much. Fred and Sarah looked up at her.

"Don't worry," said Fred confidently. "They'll be here."

"How are you so sure?" Alex asked, frowning.

Fred nearly laughed, and tried not to sound too patronising as he explained to the girls: "James and Aaron, despite the insipid belief of the rest of the school that they're some sort of Gods, are simple people. They'll be here because they like excitement, they like showing off, and, above everything, they like doing what they shouldn't. You can trust me on that one."

"So why are you here?" ventured Sarah.

He shrugged. "I like James and Aaron."

It was sort of true and sort of not, but that didn't matter then. Just in time the classroom door burst open, and in loped James and Aaron, both wearing identical devilish grins that foreshadowed impending mischief.

"Evening all," James beamed, positively radiating cheerfulness. It was annoyingly impossible to be angry at them for their tardiness.

"Where have you been?" asked Alex, her lips curved into a faint smile.

"Got into a duel with Evermonde, toilet papered his dormitory as payback, ran into Filch, Transfigured something into a goat," said James, ticking the items off on his fingers as he went along.

"Half a goat," Aaron amended.

"Was it a student?" she wanted to know.

Aaron looked mortally offended. "'Course not."

"Then I don't care."

Aaron mouthed, ' _I was lying_ ' to Fred and bounded over to the blackboard. "Right, so we all know why we're here, except maybe Fred because he's slow."

"Oh, fuck you, Peters…"

" _Focus_ ," went Alex, exasperated.

Aaron nodded. "Right. So we figured out the pattern. Whoever's doing this is doing it on nights when Hagrid, Filch, or Jenkins are guarding the door. Obviously Filch and Hagrid aren't very capable wizards, and Jenkins just doesn't give enough of a fuck to actually pay attention."

Fred added, "According to the patrol rota its Jenkins's turn to guard the classroom tonight…"

"Probably sitting out the classroom right now playing solitaire or something," muttered James.

"...and we know how they're getting into the room. Or we've got a pretty damn good guess, at any rate."

Alex and Sarah leaned forward in anticipation, eager to hear what they had been wondering all day.

"By that bookshelf over there," said Fred, pointing to the back of the classroom, "is a statue of a griffin. Push the griffin's claw down, and it'll lead to a passageway that'll take you all the way to the Muggle Studies classroom."

"Brilliant!" said Alex excitedly. "So we tell the teachers about the passageway and they can wait for whoever's doing this to come!"

James and Aaron looked at her as though she had just murdered their mothers.

"Oh, yes, Morgan. And then we're going to tell Filch about the time we set fire to his office and McGonagall about when we grew gillyweed in the Forbidden Forest," James said sarcastically. " _No_ , we're not going to tell the teachers about the passageway! I  _like_ that passageway. It's  _useful."_

"And besides," Aaron added, "I thought you wanted to do this yourself?" And for once his words seemed to be genuine instead of biting, so when she met his gaze she simply nodded.

"Alright. We don't go to the teachers about it. So what  _do_ we do?"

James straightened up against the blackboard. "Opposite the passageway entrance to the Muggle Studies classroom is a cubbyhole. It's not that big, but it'll fit three or four. Then two of us can just stand in the passageway whilst we wait."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Right, and whoever's behind this is just going to politely ignore us whilst we stand there watching him them go along their merry business of committing a hate crime?"

James seemed to be fighting a smile. "Y'know, I don't think I like your tone, Flynn."

"I don't like your face, Potter-"

"Bit immature that."

"You just  _toilet papered_ someone's dormitory…"

"Well, you can't think I'm that immature, seeing as you tried out for  _my_ Quidditch team, and came to me for  _my_ help."

"What, were you expecting me to try out for the Hufflepuff team or something? And technically Al's the one asking you for help, I've just got dragged into this by doing my best trying to help to her..."

James leant against the blackboard and crossed his arms. "Y'know, the 'poor-little-me' act doesn't do much for me, Flynn. Try again."

"My God, couldn't you just cut the sexual tension in here with a knife?" Aaron drawled, slinging an arm around Alex's shoulder. James threw him a glare and got a wink in return.

" _Children_ ," Fred and Alex chorused and then stared at each other in surprise.

Aaron grinned. "If you're all done…" He stood up and picked up the bag that James had discarded when they'd walked in, " _these_ are how we're not going to get seen waiting for the bastards."

And onto the table in front of them he threw a piece of ancient-looking parchment and some odd silvery material. Alex stared at the mysterious objects in awe, but Sarah was unimpressed. "What are  _those_ supposed to be?"

"These," James said, straightening up, "are top secret. I'm serious, okay? If this whole thing wasn't your bloody idea in the first place you wouldn't be getting a look at them either. And if I find out that one of you've blabbed then I'm cursing all that pretty hair of your head, Fred Weasley be damned."

" _That_ ," said Alex, pointing at the heap of silvery material and looking a little bit faint, "is Harry Potter's invisibility cloak. The one that he used to hunt the horcruxes. The one he had at the Battle of Hogwarts. This cloak  _saved the wizarding world_!"

"Yeah. Mostly we use it to fuck with Hufflepuffs and shit," said Aaron. Alex closed her eyes in dismay.

"The Marauder's Map," Sarah said aloud, glancing up at James from the aging parchment. "Fucking hell, please don't tell me you lot are going by the  _Marauders_ now-"

Aaron and Fred laughed and James went, "Oi, do you want our help or not, Flynn?"

"C'mon," said Aaron confidently as he stood up. "Let's go. All we've gotta do is stand around and wait for the pillock to show up. We'll be back in bed by twelve."

* * *

"Not that I'm complaining," Alex said two hours later, her teeth chattering, "but how much longer exactly do you think we'll have to stay here for?"

It was twenty five past two, and the five had been stood in that drafty passageway for over two hours.

The boys had failed to mention how cold it would be in there and how mind-numbingly boring it would be. It was, Alex supposed, the unglamorous side to all their extravagant pranks and schemes that remained untalked about. No one realised how much standing and waiting around was involved.

"Not much bloody longer, I hope," came Aaron's grumblings from inside the cubbyhole. "I can't feel my balls. Ten more minutes of this and I'll be infertile."

"Probably for the best," Sarah remarked.

"Actually, it's exposure to heat that causes infertility, not the cold."

"God, Morgan, stop talking about my fertility, it's turning me on…"

"Oi, shut up, you lot—what's this?" Fred's voice rose above them all, and everyone stopped to listen. "Aaron, show this to James."

Aaron's head poked out the cubbyhole and James took a look at the Map in his hand and laughed. "What are  _they_ doing here? They're definitely not behind this..."

Alex was just opening her mouth to ask what precisely they were talking about when suddenly she heard two unknown voices echoing from further down the passageway; they all fell silent.

"...told you we should've just stayed in the Ravenclaw Tower, it's not  _that_ cold up there. Where the hell are we, anyway?"

"I don't fucking know, Gus, but it's a damn sight better than getting on Filch's bad side, wouldn't you agree?"

Whilst the voices continue to bicker James and Aaron grinned at each other, and the former pulled the cloak off the two girls and himself whilst the latter wiped the Map clean and shoved it into his pockets.

"What…?" Sarah started to say, but James shook his head and put a finger to his lips so she settled for exchanging bewildered looks with Alex instead.

The voices grew louder and louder until eventually two boys came into view. One was tall and pale with black curly hair and the other burly and blonde, and both were so deep in conversation that they didn't even notice the five stood at the end of the passageway at first.

Their names were Oscar Kettler and Augustus Smith, two Slytherins in their year that Sarah knew of but had never spoken to much. Clearly James, Fred, and Aaron had however, and judging from the grins on their faces Kettler and Smith were not the culprits they were after.

As they caught sight of the five of them the two Slytherins stopped dead, and Augustus said in surprise, "What are  _you_ lot doing here?"

Aaron ignored them."Something you want to tell us, lads?" he asked, highly amused. "It  _is_ a beautiful night, I suppose. Perfect for a nice romantic walk around the castle…"

They rolled their eyes.

"Funny, Peters. Nah, we were just sneaking back from the Ravenclaw common room-we were seeing Darrell, y'know-and ran into Filch. Obviously we legged it and ducked into this unused classroom, Gus knocked over the books on that shelf at the back and somehow-"

"We ended up here." Oscar finished, a frown on his face as he looked around. "Fuck knows how, I haven't got a clue where we- _Morgan_? The hell are you doing here? It's past one!"

"Oh God, are you gonna give us detention?" Augustus grimaced. "

Alex rolled her eyes and James laughed. "Nah, relax, no one's getting detention. Well, actually, hopefully  _someone's_ getting detention…"

Now the two Slytherins gazed at the five suspiciously.

"Wait. So what  _are_ all of you doing here?" Augustus wanted to know, remembering that they had failed to answer the question previously.

James, Fred, Aaron, Alex, and Sarah all looked at each other. " _Well_ …"

"Oh, we're just catching the dickhead who thinks it's fun to go around the school verbally attacking Muggles." Aaron puffed out his chest. "Just call us the heroes of Hogwarts, whatever, it's no big deal…"

"You're after the Muggle Studies people?" Oscar's eyes brightened. " _Brilliant_. We're staying."

" _No_ , we're not-"

"Don't be such a fucking pansy, Gus, you were just saying last night you wanted whoever's doing it caught-"

"Yeah, just so people would stop glaring at us in the corridors just for being fucking Slytherins, that doesn't mean that I want to stay up half the bloody night just in case whoever's doing this  _happens_ to wander by…"

Fred looked a little wounded. "Give us some credit, Smith. We know for a fact that it  _is_ happening tonight."

"See?" Oscar beamed as he turned to his best friend. "C'mon, they may be fucking idiots but they know their shit when it comes to sneaking around. We're  _staying_."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Oh, what fun."

"I hope you're not being  _sarcastic_ , Flynn…"

"Oh no, I'd never be sarcastic to  _you_ , Kettler…"

"Oi, shut up, you two!" James looked on high alert as he gazed down the passageway. "Quick, someone's coming!"

Aaron and Fred promptly shoved Oscar and Augustus into the cubbyhole and the latter grabbed Alex's hand and pulled her in as well, whilst James grabbed the cloak and covered himself and Sarah with it, pressing her up against the wall. She looked up at him and he winked at her; she glanced away quickly, her cheeks reddening.

There were no voices to announce the newcomers' arrival this time, only brisk, determined footsteps that indicated urgent business that needed attending to.

" _Finally_ ," James breathed. They all stood in rigid silence, no-one daring to move, and then two shadowy figures emerged at the end of the passageway. Sarah didn't know their names but recognised them as seventh years in Gryffindor and Ravenclaw respectively.

One was short and stocky, the other tall and aristocratic-looking, and (like Oscar and Augustus had been before) they seemed to be bickering.

"I'm  _telling_ you, Francis, we should get someone else involved, a lookout or something. It's getting too risky on our own, and I've told you before, Orton's more than willing-"

"Shut it, Nigel. We don't need anyone else. We're more than capable on our own. Now, come on…  _Stulperta._ "

At once the statue blocking the entrance to the Muggle Studies classroom directly opposite where James and Sarah stood swung open, and the two boys stepped through swiftly.

Once the statue had swung back James stepped out from under the cloak and darted into the cubbyhole.

"Nigel Rigby and Francis Selwyn," he said in a rush to the five waiting inside impatiently, all squashed together like sardines. "Went in just now. It's definitely them."

" _Those_ two?" Aaron looked personally offended. "How the hell do  _they_ know about this passageway?"

"Buggared if I know. I didn't have either of them pegged for troublemakers and it's not like they've got a magic fucking map of the castle." James paused. "Well, that we know of."

"Francis Selwyn." Alex looked deeply troubled. "That's Isaac's brother. He'll be  _mortified_ when he hears."

"Yeah, well, no time to cry about that now." Aaron checked the Map. "Alright. Fred, you got the fireworks?"

"Yep. Dad sent me a Deflagration Deluxe box free of charge, should be more than enough."

Oscar perked up. "Fireworks? What've you got fireworks for?"

"For the distraction. And actually…" James turned to the Slytherins grinning, "you two are  _just_ the blokes for the job."

"Oh, no, no,  _no_. Absolutely fucking not. I refuse. We are  _not_ getting involved in another one of your lot's mental schemes." Augustus paused. "Alright, we'll do it."

"Good man," Aaron grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. "Right, so Jenkins is Confunded right now-done by a Confusion Combustion we think, you can get them from Fred's dad's shop-but a loud enough noise and he'll snap out of it. We don't want him catching us fighting in the classroom, so you two need to set off the fireworks nearby. You've got plenty here and Fred gets 'em for free from his dad, so don't worry about wasting them. The path to the dungeons is clear, so make a run for that, set the fireworks off as you go, and then head  _straight_  back for your dorm."

Oscar scoffed. "Nah, fuck going back to the dorm, I wanna see how this turns out. Meet you lot in the kitchens after."

"Fine," Fred grumbled, and Alex's eyes widened.

"The  _kitchens_?"

"Morgan, don't get me wrong, it was a real ego-boost when you first started repeating everything we said," Aaron went as Oscar and Augustus scarpered away, "but now we've got shit to do."

The boys all rolled up their sleeves

"So which play we going for? The McGonagall?"

"Nah, that's better for when we're outnumbered, it's only Rigby and Selwyn. I reckon a good old-fashioned What's-Over-There."

Aaron scoffed. " _What's-Over-There_? Definitely not, the Ukrainian Ironbelly would be best…"

The boys continued to argue and Sarah rolled her eyes at Alex. Clearly this sort of thing happened to the boys on a regular basis.

"Oi, hang on," Fred interrupted, jerking his head towards Alex and Sarah. "This was all these two's idea. Maybe they should take the lead on this one."

"Good point," said Aaron. "To be fair, I've seen Morgan in Defence, I reckon she's an absolute weapon."

"Yeah, alright. Flynn, you'll be happy to know that the use of fists is absolutely encouraged," James added.

Sarah smiled impishly and beside her Alex rolled up her sleeves and nodded. "Ready."

"Hardly seems just," Aaron mused, "five on two. Even one on two would be unfair with those two useless sacks of shit."

"You suggesting we go easy on them?" James asked, eyebrows raised.

"Not  _exactly_ , but maybe we should do something at least to even the playing field…"

"Oh,  _fuck_ this," went Sarah, and she strolled out of the cubbyhole and through the passageway entrance that Rigby and Selwyn had left ajar.

"I love that girl," Alex sighed, before following her through.

James, Fred, and Aaron exchanged bewildered glances. "Um… okay then."

And they scrambled after the girls as they steamrolled ahead.

(Little did they know that this would be happening a lot in the years to come.)

"Oi, would you two just hang on… a  _sec_ …"

They didn't hang on a sec, and Sarah and Alex entered the classroom to find Selwyn and Rigby already busy destroying it.

"Oh, hullo," Sarah said innocently. "Fancy seeing you here."

The two boys, so focused on the task at hand, nearly jumped out of their skins and whipped around to see the owner of the voice. When they saw Sarah and Alex, their looks of horror turned to smirks.

"Flynn and Morgan?" went Rigby. "Thank God, thought it might be someone important."

"Should we be offended?" Alex wondered, glancing at Sarah; she shrugged.

It didn't really matter, as Rigby and Selwyn's smirks faded when James, Fred, and Aaron appeared behind them; the two boys exchanged panicked glances.

"Oh,  _bollocks_ …"

"I fucking told you we should've gotten Orton on board to be lookout."

"Shut  _up_ , Nigel."

Selwyn took a step forward, wand out and a determined look in his eye.

Rigby didn't look as keen. He was a Gryffindor after all, and had seen enough of James, Fred, and Aaron's wandwork in the common room to know that (despite being seventh years and relatively bright) they were severely outmatched, even without counting the two girls.

"Alright," said Rigby, putting his hands up and stepping forward. "You caught us. Now, c'mon Potter, you like a joke as much as the rest of us. Just let it go and we can all call it a day here."

"Are you  _joking_ , Rigby? You start an anti-Muggle campaign in fucking Hogwarts and you think we're just going to  _let it go_?" James looked disgusted.

Alex spoke up. "You can either fight us or you can save yourself some hassle and put down your wands. Either way we're not letting you leave."

"Though kicking you in the balls would be so much more fun," Sarah smirked.

Sewlyn sneered. "Oh, be serious, Alex. You're not going to turn  _me_ in-you know what your family would say about getting yourself involved in this. Now call your bloody mutts off and  _go away_."

James stepped forward, kicking over Rigby's bag as he did so. "Here's a tip, Selwyn: if you want a favour from someone, don't call them 'mutts'."

"Look," said Rigby desperately, stepping in front of Selwyn, "we've had our fun, alright? We're sorry, we didn't think we'd get caught, and if you just let us go we swear it won't happen…"

"Enough!" snarled Selwyn, and he pushed Rigby out of the way, sending a jet of bright blue light Fred's way.

The pair didn't stand a chance after that.

Fred blocked the spell, Alex disarmed Selwyn, Aaron sent a Stunner his way, and-for good measure-Sarah kneed him in the groin. Rigby didn't even try. All James had to do was point his wand in the seventh years direction and he put his hands up.

"Good lad," James said, and he Stunned him too.

"Should you have done that?" Alex asked reproachfully as he slumped back comatose. "He wasn't fighting back, after all."

"I didn't want to," James agreed. "But for the purposes of anonymity we need him unconscious." He frowned. "I thought they'd put up more of a fight, to be honest."

"Same here," said Aaron, who looked disappointed. "Still. Good team effort. Loved the kick, Flynn, much more apt to deal with them the Muggle way given the circumstances."

Sarah smiled and Fred, conscious that Jenkins could come back at any moment, went, "Aaron, the Map…?"

"We've got time. Gus and Oscar have led Jenkins to the third floor. I'd say we've got a solid five minutes. Maybe even ten."

"We'll leave them in here," James decided. "Tie them up. Leave the classroom door open and let Jenkins find them. Are they definitely unconscious?"

Sarah, who was standing nearest, kicked Rigby and then Selwyn. They groaned but remained still. "Yeah, they're out."

"But they'll remember us being here though," Alex piped up. "Stunned or not, it doesn't matter."

Aaron cocked his head. "Oh yeah, good point. Obliviate them?"

"You can  _do_ that?!"

"He can," James said, nodding towards Fred. "Me and Aaron are rubbish, but Fred can do it great."

Alex looked very impressed and Fred, a pleased smile on his face, stepped forward this his wand out.

" _Obliviate_."

* * *

Alex was within the vast majority of students that had never been to the Hogwarts kitchens before. Honestly, the possibility of going there had never even occurred to her.

However, as she stepped through the portrait after James, Fred, Aaron, and Sarah, she now realised that she had all but wasted over five years at Hogwarts. The kitchens were enormous for a start, with a high ceiling and tall stone walls, and at the end a gigantic, cosy-looking fireplace. The room was filled with gleaming copper pots and pans and stoves, and in the middle were four long wooden tables, one, Alex supposed, for each house.

Augustus and Oscar sat at the one belonging to Slytherin, and as soon as the latter saw them he bounced to his feet.

"So what happened?" he cried. "D'you catch the tossers?"

Aaron strolled in, hands in his pockets and a grin on his face. "'Course we did," he said nonchalantly.

" _Brilliant_."

"How'd you get on with Jenkins?"

"Piece of piss. Had him all the way down to the Entrance Hall before he decided he didn't care enough to chase us and gave up. Sure McGonagall will give some speech in the morning about setting of fireworks inside the school."

"Yeah, well, hopefully she'll assume it was Rigby and Sewlyn…"

Alex was still preoccupied with the kitchens.

"This is amazing," she breathed, taking in her surroundings with wide eyes. "Are students  _allowed_ in here?"

"Well," James hedged, "we're not  _not_ allowed in here."

"Old loophole," Augustus drawled; he remained sitting at the table with a faint smile on his face; he looked pleased despite himself. "It doesn't say anything in the school rules about students not being allowed in the kitchens. Teachers will be more concerned that it's after hours."

Fred joined him at the table and pinched some of his chips. "You should see this place in the daytime, Alex. House elves running around everywhere, food all over the place…"

"Forget the kitchens," Oscar said impatiently. "What about Rigby and Selwyn? What happened?!"

The rest of them congregated around the table, bottles of butterbeers were summoned, and the Gryffindors present relayed their tale to the Slytherins.

"Selwyn," Augustus mused. "He's Isaac's brother, right? You don't think that he knew anything about this?"

They all looked to Alex, who frowned.

"No. No, I don't think so. From what he says he doesn't get on with Francis-he always wears Muggle clothes whenever he can to annoy him and his grandfather and things like that. I can't see him being okay with his brother being involved in something like this."

"Hang on, which one's Isaac Sewlyn again? Is he that ginger from Hufflepuff?"

James swigged his butterbeer and supplied, "Blond Ravenclaw, hangs around with King. Bit of a pillock."

"Oh yeah. He's seeing Vera Summers, right?"

"No, he's with Mavis Trott, not Vera Summers." Augustus nodded towards Fred. "I hear that Vera Summers has taken a fancy to Weasley here, actually."

"Oh." Fred looked startled, though not entirely displeased; if he was being honest, it had never occurred to him before that girls other than Alex Morgan existed at Hogwarts. "Where did you hear that from?"

"I have my sources," Gus sniffed.

"Vera Summers? Nice," said Aaron appreciatively. "She's not bad at all."

Sarah snorted. "If you like girls who giggle more than they talk."

"Has it ever occurred to you that you should do a little  _less_ talking, Flynn...?"

It was well past three in the morning but none of them felt tired. They sat and they talked and they laughed until it was gone four, and even though she knew she'd feel like hell in the morning and none of the people there-with the exception of Sarah-were her actual friends, Alex couldn't remember the last time she'd had such a good time. Despite their many flaws, those three boys had an uncanny way of making one forget about the world's troubles.

Eventually the clock struck five, and Alex nudged Sarah, albeit reluctantly. "We'd better get going. We've got to be up in three hours."

"Yeah, we'll come with you," Aaron said, yawning then releasing a bark of laughter. "God, what a night, eh?"

What a night indeed.

* * *

The next morning news of the previous night's events spread quickly. By the time Fred arrived at breakfast the Great Hall was already buzzing with gossip, and when he sat down the first thing that James said to him was, "Rigby's been expelled."

"You're kidding?" Fred paused halfway as he helped himself to some bacon. "What about Selwyn?"

"He can stay," said Aaron grimly. "Apparently his grandfather vouched for him so he's only being suspended. Perks of being in the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

Fred swore loudly. "You're fucking joking. Do Oscar and Gus know?"

"They told  _us_ ," said James, waving a forkful of egg in the air. "Bumped into them on our way down here. Apparently they heard it from Darrell, who got it from Clio Smith…"

"Does Clio have fucking spies in this school, how does she know  _everything_ -"

Fred had stopped listening. Alex Morgan had just walked into the Hall, accompanied by Grace and Martha, and James and Aaron's chatter faded instantly into the background.

"Be right back."

He approached her cautiously but he had no reason to be nervous; as soon as she caught sight of him she smiled and waved Grace and Martha on.

It was remarkable. She had had as little sleep as the rest of them but you wouldn't have been able to tell at all. There were no bags under her eyes, not a single strand of hair out of place, and she seemed as friendly as she always was.

"So Rigby's been expelled," he blurted out. "But Selwyn's only been suspended."

She sighed. "I thought it might happen that way. It's not fair. Francis was just as much to blame as Nigel."

"It'll be on his record, at least. I know it's not much, but at least people will know that he did it."

"Right," Alex agreed, and they stood there in silence for a moment. "I should really thank you as well," she said at length. "All three of you. Me and Sarah would never have been able to catch Rigby and Selwyn if it weren't for your help."

"Hey, it's no problem, honestly. Felt good to be doing something useful around here for a change."

"Think those two lunatics are reformed now?" she joked, nodding to where James and Aaron sat goofing around with Darrell Adler, who had just joined them from the Ravenclaw table.

Fred laughed a bit. "Well, that might be pushing it a bit far… Though this morning they had an opportunity to hide Bobby Matthews' clothes whilst he was in the shower and they decided not to, so maybe they're maturing. "

His heart was soaring for actually having a conversation with Alex Morgan without him making a fool of himself or pissing her off, and he was just about to ask if she wanted to sit with them at the Gryffindor table when their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of another.

"Alex! My God, have you heard…?" Henry King rushed over from the Ravenclaws and slipped his hand into his girlfriends, who looked up at him with such adoring eyes that Fred felt his stomach plummet about fifty feet; Henry caught sight of him and his face darkened. "Oh. Weasley."

"King," Fred responded uncomfortably. Henry didn't pay him any more heed as he turned back to his girlfriend, engaging her in conversation. Clearly he had heard about Isaac's brother. "Right, well I'll just… Bye, Alex."

She glanced over at him. "Oh-bye, Fred. See you later."

And Fred watched them walk away, feeling like an idiot that just one night could have changed anything. He turned to go back to his friends and as he did so Vera Summers, who sat at the Hufflepuff table, caught his eye. She smiled and waved, and he returned it uncertainly.

Vera Summers. Alright.

 


	6. Nowhere Boy

The announcement came late in October, just a few days before Halloween. It should have been a nice, enjoyable day (it was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the school year) but instead it started with a newspaper article and ended with a fight. And, suffice to say, neither were particularly pleasant.

\---

(Fred)

_Shacklebolt Resigns: Will Evermonde Bring a New Hope?_

_It is undeniable that Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt has had a successful run as Minister, overlooking the end of a thirty year long war, and a complete reform of the Ministry of Magic. However, it has recently revealed that after his fourth term, his time as Minister for Magic has come to an end. Reports of the Minister's ill health has been dogging the Ministry for months; now, in the early hours of the morning of the 27th it has been announced that Shacklebolt will be resigning from his position in the April of next year, meaning that he will become the second longest serving Minister for Magic at twenty three years, after Faris Spavin's thirty eight year run, and arguably one of the most popular Ministers to date._

_However, the rather bitter last few years of Shacklebolt's run will undoubtedly dog his otherwise excellent performance. Unhappiness across the nation has been prevalent for the last five years, a result, many believe, of a dramatic surge in the magical population. It has long been thought that there is little hope of recapturing the golden years experienced immediately after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's fall by the hands of Harry Potter, and so many of us will surely now be asking the same question: If Shacklebolt cannot help us, who can?_

_Many heads are turning towards Hector Evermonde, Shacklebolt's Undersecretary for the past seven years. Just hours after the Minister's announcement, Evermonde spoke to reporters stationed in the Atrium, announcing his own hopes to replace Shacklebolt._

_"The Minister's ill health is very unfortunate indeed. I'm sure that all of us here can agree that he has done much to support the Wizarding community since those troubling years of war. However, there was only so much he could do. I have a plan that could be infallible for saving Britain from collapse once again. It has long been said that the cause of this unhappiness - this unemployment, these riots, these fights - is the result of restrictions forced upon wizards by the Statute of Secrecy. I believe that by abolishing this quite frankly old fashioned regime, Wizarding Britain can be great once again!"_

_Evermonde's claims are indeed shocking; the Statute of Secrecy has been in place since 1692, and has been agreed upon by over forty countries, including France, Russia, the United States, and the United Kingdom…_

“Bollocks,” commented James Potter, throwing the paper onto the Gryffindor table. “Fucking bollocks. Hector Evermonde? If he’s anything like his bloody nephew then Britain’ll go to shit.”

“Why? What’s happened now?” Aaron managed to ask in between shovelling mouthfuls of breakfast down his throat.

“Kingsley’s resigned, Evermonde’s campaigning to takeover, and he wants to get rid of the Statute of Secrecy.”

“Oh. So nothing much, then?”

“ _Not_ the time, mate…”

The Great Hall was abuzz with excited chatter as a result of the aforementioned article, even more so than usual, but as his two friends bickered Fred found that he couldn’t bring himself to care all that much about the article. Not right then, anyway. He had good reason to be distracted. That Saturday marked not only the first Hogsmeade trip of the year but also his first date with Vera Summers. Actually, his first date ever.

It had taken Fred three attempts to ask her out. Once in the library, where he had run over to where Vera had sat with her housemates, panicked, stared at her for ten seconds, then ran away again. The second was outside Charms. He had actually managed to say ‘hello’ that time before being spooked by the arrival of Henry King and Isaac Selwyn.

The third attempt took place in the middle of the Great Hall during dinner, with James, Aaron, Oscar, and Gus all sat watching and spouting off useless advice. A week later and he still winced with embarrassment at the memory. He had slunk over to the Hufflepuff table where Vera was surrounded by countless giggling girls; he had stuttered and stammered and eventually stammered out the question, and although the ensuring few seconds had seemed to drag on for a lifetime, finally she had smiled and nodded happily; he had walked back over to the Gryffindor table to cheers and catcalls from James, Aaron, Gus, and Oscar. All in all, the entire thing had been mortifying.

But still, she had said yes. He had a date to Hogsmeade who was kind and pretty and clever (although not quite as kind and pretty and clever as Alex Morgan) and for that he should be completely and utterly ecstatic. And he was, a bit. It’s just that he was also completely fucking terrified.

“Fred? Oi, Fred!” “Huh?” He jerked out of his reverie and stared at James.

“I said, why do you think Kingsley actually resigned?” He smirked. “God, you were thinking about Summers again, weren’t you?”

“No,” said Fred indignantly. “I was thinking about… the weather.”

“Since when did we start using the weather as a euphemism for Vera Summers’ tits?” Aaron asked.

“And you wonder why I won’t let you meet up with us later,” Fred marvelled.

“You two talking about Vera Summers?”

It was Oscar and Augustus. As usual it was the former that had spoken whilst the other took a seat with his trademark grumpiness.

“Yep,” said Aaron grinning. “Fred here was just telling us that we’re not allowed anywhere near him or Vera today.” Oscar leant forward and swiped a piece of James’s toast.

“Nah, fuck that. Me and Gus are planning to ambush you two later.” “Don’t you fucking dare!” said Fred at once, panicking. “I don’t want any of you shitheads ruining this for me!”

“So suspicious,” said James solemnly to the others, shaking his head. “It’s heartbreaking to see at such a young age.”

“ _James Sirius Potter_ …”

“I dunno why you’re looking at me,” he said, a bit sullenly. “I’ll be stuck with Maya all day, listening to her complain about this knob.” He punched Aaron’s shoulder. “It’s Gus, Oscar, and Aaron you need to look out for, none of them have dates.”

That was true but only Oscar looked put out by it; Augustus just shrugged and looked as grumpy as ever whilst Aaron positively beamed.

“And why would I want a date exactly?” he wanted to know. “I was asked out by five girls this week and I told them all to buggar off. It’s too much agg going to Hogsmeade with a girl. They get all clingy afterwards.”

“My heart bleeds for you,” said Fred dryly, prodding a sausage with his fork. “Also, you can’t even afford to take a girl on a date! You had to ask me for two sickles this morning so you could buy a drink later!”

“I already spent it,” Aaron said guiltily. “I gave it to Sam Mason on the way to breakfast. Bet him that the Arrows would win against the Tornado’s next week.”

Fred snorted. “Are you insane? No way are the Arrows beating the Tornado’s, their offence is shocking--”

“You done with that?” Augustus asked James, nodding at his discarded paper.

“Yeah, take it,” he shrugged. “Just another lunatic spouting bollocks though.”

“You mean that Evermonde lark?” Oscar guessed as Augustus took the Prophet. “Yeah, I read about that earlier. Completely mad, getting rid of the Statue of Secrecy…”

“Nah, there’s no way in hell they’d do that. It must just be a ploy to appeal to old people and all the unemployed lot,” said Fred confidently, and he almost believed it.

Aaron indulged him. “Yeah, maybe. I mean, there’s no way that people would go for that, right?” But looking around the Hall there seemed to be just as many students talking eagerly about the article as there were complaining.

“Not everyone would,” said James uneasily. “But some maybe. If Evermonde plays on people’s fears…”

Oscar glanced at him, blue eyes curious. “What’s your dad been saying about it?”

“Not a lot to me. We haven’t exactly been seeing eye to eye lately.” He shifted uncomfortably and didn’t elaborate any further, and was saved answering any inquiries by Augustus.

“William Morgan,” he said, looking up with a frown. “Isn’t that Alex’s dad?”

Fred looked over at once. “William Morgan? Yeah, that’s right. Why?”

“He’s mentioned in the Evermonde article.”

Desperate as Fred was to forget about that particular chestnut-haired witch (Vera not Alex) he couldn’t help but snatch the paper away from Augustus’s hands. “What does it say?!”

“Hey, I was--fucking hell, alright. There’s a bit in there asking high up Ministry officials their opinion of it all. Looks like Morgan’s an Evermonde supporter, he was praising him quite a bit.”

“But this makes it seem that Morgan’s right in the middle of this!” Fred stared up at James and Aaron in a panic. “It says here that he’s quoted as saying that Evermonde’s ideas are revolutionary! He can’t be involved in this, right?”

“Revolutionary?” James mused, stroking his chin. “Fucking hell. Be interesting to see what the she-Morgan knows about it all.”

Aaron grinned. “And we’re all such good friends now after catching Rigby and Selwyn…”

Good friends was perhaps an exaggeration, but it was true that Alex had stopped rolling her eyes at them for every slight transgression and now referred to them by their first names rather than Potter, Weasley, or Peters.

Nevertheless, Fred threw down the newspaper and said firmly, “No. You two are not to ask Alex about her dad under any circumstances. Clear?”

James and Aaron merely exchanged devilish smiles, and the latter said innocently, “Oh look, isn’t that Summers waiting for you over there? It’d be rude to keep her waiting, Frederick.”

Fred looked over and sure enough there stood Vera by the doors, looking very lovely indeed with her yellow and black scarf wrapped tightly around her to combat the merciless Scottish winds and her dark hair pulled back into a messy bun. “I mean it, you two,” warned Fred, getting up. “You’ll only end up annoying her. You won’t get any answers.” “Good luck, mate,” the four boys chorused and, desperately trying to ignore the butterflies exploding in his stomach, Fred huffed and left to join his date. He didn’t have a good feeling about this.

-

“I love Hogsmeade,” Vera sighed as she strolled through the crowded street hand in hand with Fred Weasley. “Especially in October. I know there’s something to be said for the winter and the snow and all the christmas decorations, but you’ve got to admit, there’s something magical about the Autumn.” Fred looked at his companion with amusement.

"But there's nothing magical about Autumn," Fred pointed out. "Actually, considering there's a pile of newspapers stacking themselves over there and a wizard right ahead selling Ever-lasting roses, Autumn’s the least magical thing here!” Vera shook her head, smiling. "That's the problem with purebloods. You have no appreciation for magic."

"You were raised with magic too." "Well, yes, but my father's a Muggle— _I've_ had a healthy mix of both worlds."

The date, much to Fred's delight, was going well. Vera had laughed at all of his jokes, there hadn't been any awkward silences, and as of yet she hadn't given even the slightest inclination that she wanted to visit Madame Puddifoot's teashop.

"So where to now?" Fred asked, looking around the crowded high street. "Zonko's? Honeydukes? I suppose we could try the Three Broomsticks, I reckon Madame Rosmerta will have forgotten that ban she gave me, James, and Aaron by now..."

Vera looked shocked. "Ban? What on earth did you three do?!"

"Oh, it was nothing really," Fred said, enjoying Vera's reaction. "Not for James and Aaron, anyway. It's just last time we were there together, we sort of started a riot. We made a bet with a couple of Australian wizards-- you know what, it’s probably best not to go into the details. But Aaron can charm his way around any witch, annoying bastard that he is. I'm sure he'll have sweet-talked Rosmerta around it by now."

"Of course," Vera said, not sure whether to be concerned or amused, but smiling nevertheless. "Shall we try there, then?"

He gestured towards the tavern. "Lead the way."

Of course, Fred should have known better than to take Vera to such a popular haunt for Hogwarts students. It only took five minutes for his friends to track them down. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. All he was doing was sitting there innocently listening to Vera tell a fascinating story about her Hufflepuff friends arguing (it wasn’t really that fascinating, but she told the story so enthusiastically that it was impossible not to find it at least slightly endearing), so of course _someone_ had to come and ruin his perfectly good time. Surprisingly it wasn’t Aaron (Fred suspected he was still harbouring some guilt over the Alex incident the other month) but Augustus and Oscar.

“Oh my God, Fred!” Oscar explained, feigning complete surprise. “What in the name of Salazar are you doing here?!”

“I--”

But Fred couldn’t even get a word out before Oscar had plopped himself down opposite them. Even Gus, normally so quiet and grumpy, was unable to contain his amusement as he pulled up a chair.

“Oscar Kettler,” Oscar announced loudly to the bemused Hufflepuff. “Slytherin. Tell me, Vera, did you ever hear about the time when Fred got trapped in the Astronomy Tower with Clio Smith and a goat--”

“Vera, I am _so_ thirsty,” Fred broke in loudly. “Do you mind getting some drinks? Here, take this…”

He shoved some galleons into her hands and although flummoxed, Vera nevertheless got up obediently. “Oh. Okay.”

Fred beamed at her. “Thanks, Vera. So, what have you guys been up to? Been to Honeydukes yet...” She moved out of earshot. “Alright, listen here you fuckheads, you have to go, alright? Things are actually going well at the moment, you can’t just come bowling on over and pulling up chairs! You’re going to scare her off!”

Oscar and Gus stared at him, quite unperturbed.

“Oh look, isn’t that Morgan and King over there?” Gus commented, nodding over to one of the crowded booths.

Fred looked and saw that it was. He couldn’t help it. “Oh. Yeah.” He turned back around and saw their sceptical expressions. “I _don’t_ care.”

“If you say so,” Oscar shrugged.

Fred slumped back. “Y’know, James is on a date too,” he said sulkily. “How come you’re not annoying him?”

“Because James would probably be happy if we crashed his date with Maya,” Gus reminded him, his finger tracing years worth of markings carved into the table.

“Yeah, what’s the deal with that anyway?” mused Oscar. “One of the fittest girls at Hogwarts and he acts like he’d rather be with anyone else. He must either like someone else or be guy. Or both, I guess. What do you reckon, Fred?”

“You know what I reckon? I reckon that you two are the two biggest bastards in this place. If you tell that goat story, I swear to God--”

“She’s coming back.”

“--So, the Wimbourne Wasp’s lost last night then?” Fred smiled at Vera as she lowered four butterbeers onto the table with her wand. “Oh good. Drinks for Gus and Oscar too.”

Oscar took his happily. “Vera Summers, you are an absolute lad and entirely too good for Fred Weasley.”

“It’s nothing.” Vera beamed, settling down next to Fred. “So, what were you boys talking about?”

“You won’t believe it, but we were actually talking about goats--”

“No, we _weren’t_ \--”

“Fred? A word?” Fred recognised the voice and groaned inwardly as Molly Weasley appeared.

Tall, red-haired, and bespectacled with a severe lack of social skills, his older cousin was every bit Vera Summers’ opposite and whilst the date was going fairly well, he certainly didn’t need any of his more peculiar family members intervening at this stage.

“Hullo,” she said briskly, nodding at Oscar, Augustus, and Vera before turning back to her cousin. “Fred. We need you. We’re having a family meeting.”

“Now, Molly?” he said weakly. “I’m on a date here.”

Molly stared at him uncomprehendingly. “So?”

“ _So_ , I’m busy right now, and it would be rude to leave Vera here when I’ve asked her to spend the day with me. Oh--Vera, this is my cousin Molly. Molly, this is Vera. She’s a Hufflepuff.”

“Nice to meet you!” Vera chirped, stretching out her hand. “You’re head girl, aren’t you? Congratulations. I’d never make head girl in a million years.”

Molly ignored both the hand and the compliment and just stared at her. “Merlin, you’re actually quite pretty. What are you doing with Fred?”

“Hey!” cried a nettled Fred whilst Gus and Oscar laughed. “Molly, _go away_.”

“No. I want the whole family together and you’re the last one.”

“Well, what about James?”

Now Molly pulled a face. “I tried James outside of Zonko’s,” she admitted reluctantly. “He gave me the slip with that girl of his.”

“Of course he did”. Fred rolled his eyes and turned to his date. “Vera, I’m so sorry. I swear, I’ll just be five minutes…”

Molly cleared her throat. “Well, actually…”

“Oh, don’t worry, mate,” Oscar jumped in with a wide smile, slinging his arm around Vera. “Gus and I will look after her for you.”

Vera smiled sweetly. “Oh, that would be nice. I’d like to get to know your friends.”

“They’re not my friends. They’re just people I’ve met who are intent on ruining my life.”

“So, a friend?” Augustus surmised as Vera looked on with polite bemusement.

Molly huffed. “Fuck this,” she said, with all the authority of a head girl, and she seized Fred’s arm. “Let’s go. He won’t be long, Veronica.”

“Vera.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

And so Fred was promptly dragged out of The Three Broomsticks by his older cousin, and although he asked her several questions about what was going on she did not engage in conversation. He was fine with the silence, until they reached a fork in the street.

“Molly,” he began as instead of turning right into the Hogs Head as he expected, his cousin marched on up ahead towards the outskirts of the village, “Molly, tell me we’re not going to that fucking cave Hagrid told us about.”

“Yes. Can’t risk being overheard.”

“That’s a half an hour walk! You said this meeting was only going to last ten minutes!”

She shrugged. “It wasn’t a lie. I just didn’t account for how long it would take to get there.”

It was such a Molly answer that Fred couldn’t bring himself to argue against it, and so he allowed himself to be dragged further along the jagged path leading to the cave.

They were, Fred saw, the last ones to arrive; Lucy and Roxanne were perched together on a large rock, Albus, Rose, and Louis sat on the ground by their feet, and Dominique stood by herself with her arms folded at the edge of the cave.

“No Lily or Hugo?” he asked Molly.

She shook her head. “Too young. That’s why we’re doing this in Hogsmeade. They’re not around to be nosy.”

“You didn’t drag Fred away from his date, did you, Molly?” Albus called out, looking exasperated. “I told you to leave him alone.”

“Yes, well, your brother proved a lot harder to get a hold of than I thought, and we need at least one of them here.”

“Let’s make this quick, Molly,” said Dom impatiently, tapping her foot against the rock. “I said I’d meet Maya in a bit...”

Molly looked as though she cared as much about Dom’s meeting with Maya as she had Fred’s date with Vera. “Right, whatever. Now that we’re all here finally--”

“We were waiting for you!” went Roxanne indignantly.

“Hector Evermonde,” Molly said, loudly enough to smother any more grumblings. “We’ve all read the paper today, right? You’ve seen his proposals?”

“It’s just an article in a newspaper, Molly,” said Dominique, rolling her eyes. “Nothing to get worked up about, as far as I can tell.”

“Use your head, Dom,” barked Molly. “It’s not just an article, it’s a campaign! It’s not a coincidence that Kingsley’s just resigned--Evermonde’s trying to get support to become Minister!”

“ _O-kay_...” went Dom, rolling her eyes.

Roxanne and Louis and even Rose were also looking sceptical, but Albus piped up: “I’m with Molly. Dad’s been acting weird for ages, and at first I thought it was just because of James, but this makes sense. He never talks about work anymore, and all summer he was disappearing into his office for hours with Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione. Something’s going on.”

“But how much could we _do_?!” Dom said in exasperation. “Molly, we’re teenagers! What impact could we possibly have upon something going on at the Ministry?”

Molly pushed her glasses up. “Oh, you’d be surprised,” she said staunchly. “After all, Dumbledore’s Army was formed by a bunch of fifteen year olds, and Uncle Harry had defeated Voldemort four times by the time he was fourteen.”

“Yes, but none of us are the Chosen One, Molls--”

“So what did you have in mind, Molly?” Fred said loudly, silencing Dominique with a look.

“We need to find out more information. Our parents won’t tell us anything concrete, so we’ll have to resort to more underhand methods to get it. Louis, Dom, I’m putting you two in charge of Uncle Charlie. He comes round your house the most and you know how much he likes to drink--get him drunk on firewhiskey or port or something and he should start talking. And Roxy, you can work on Uncle George. He absolutely dotes on you, it should be easy to get him to let something slip. Albus, get yourself some Extendable Ears and find out what’s going on in these meetings at your house--Fred, that goes for you too, you spend enough time round there. And Lucy, you and I will do some snooping in Dad’s office over Christmas, he’s bound to have some work stuff hidden in there. Everyone got it?”

There was a murmur of agreement and Rose piped up, “What about Evermonde? Tiberius, I mean. He’s Hector Evermonde’s nephew, he must know something. Though I guess with James and Fred harassing him every second of the day he’s never going to tell us anything...”

Molly frowned. “Mmm. Good point. Fred, you keep on eye on Evermonde junior, alright? Make sure James don’t rile him up too much--he’s another one we could do with more information on.”

“Ri-ight. You have _met_ James and Aaron, right Molls?”

Her eyes flashed. “I’m serious. I’m telling you, I don’t have a good feeling about this. Our world’s changing; our name doesn’t mean what it used to. We can’t just go around acting however we want and expect to get away with it because we’re Weasleys or Potters. James needs to start keeping his head down and stop antagonising Tiberius, alright?”

Fred sighed; he had a feeling that she wasn’t far off. “Yeah, yeah, alright. Listen in at the Potter’s. Reign in James and Aaron with Evermonde. Got it. Is that all? Are we done?”

He looked hopefully at Molly, who rolled her eyes and nodded. “Yeah, we’re done. You can run off back to your date.”

“Excellent!” Fred jumped to his feet and saluted. “Been a pleasure you lot. See you at Christmas.”

Roxanne shouted something at him but he didn’t hear as he was already several strides out the cave. Vera had been left with Oscar and Augustus for at least an hour--plenty of time for them to reveal several embarrassing stories and secrets.

Well, it turned out he needn’t have worried. After sprinting down the mountain path at a record-breaking speed (he was suddenly very grateful for James’s fanatical Quidditch practices) the first thing he saw as he came out onto the Hogsmeade high street was an admittedly distressed looking but otherwise quite alone Vera Summers some distance away; Oscar and Gus, thank Merlin, were nowhere to be seen.

“Fred! Oh, Fred, thank goodness, you’d better come quickly! Something’s happened…”

Fred stared as Vera came running up to him. It couldn’t have been more than an hour since he’d been gone. What could have gone wrong in that time?

“It’s Aaron!”

Ah. Of fucking course.

-

(Alex)

It wasn’t that Alex didn’t trust Henry. In actuality she trusted him a great deal more than the average sixteen year old girl trusted her boyfriend, especially considering they lived in such close proximity to hundreds of other hormonal teenagers. She never got angry when she saw him talking with other girls and he always made sure to never mix up being friendly with outright flirting. Not once had she suspected him of cheating or lying.

Alex certainly trusted Henry, but sometimes she got the feeling that he was keeping things from her.

It was early on Saturday morning. Alex had eaten a leisurely breakfast with Martha at around nine and chattered about perfectly trivial things, and just before ten the Prophet came. She saw the mention of her father in the Evermonde article, and although it troubled her she did her best to put it out of her mind. Luckily Martha, who had more of an inclination for gossip rather than politics, proved very useful in this.

“So, Alex,” she said with a knowing smile, “are you looking forward to your date with Henry?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Alex said, and she meant it. “We’ve both been so busy lately it’s been ages since we’ve had some time alone together. Apparently he’s got something special planned.”

“Lucky,” Martha said enviously. “I was hoping Aaron Peters would ask me today but no such luck. Still, Zoey invited me to go with her, Keiran, and Isaac, and Isaac has gotten much fitter this year.”

“I’m sure you’ll have a good time,” Alex told her encouragingly, and she checked her watch. “Sorry, Martha, I’d better go. I said I’d meet Henry at ten.”

Martha bid her goodbye and Alex made her way to the Entrance Hall.

Predictably her boyfriend was already there waiting for her--he was always remarkably punctual--but what was rather less predictable was that he appeared to be engaged in conversation with Tiberius Evermonde. The pair were stood at the side of the hall, away from the crowd of students, their heads bent low together as they spoke at breakneck speed to each other. Whatever they were discussing it looked serious.

As she approached Tiberius looked up and noticed her and Alex caught the low words, “We’ll talk later, Henry.”

Henry didn’t seem entirely satisfied but nevertheless turned to Alex with a beam as he greeted her. Now Henry was always happy to see Alex of course, but just then the smile seemed too wide, the tone of voice slightly too chipper, to be completely genuine.

“What was that about?” Alex asked curiously as he took her hand and began to lead her through the castle doors and out into the grounds.

“What? Oh--back there with Tiberius?” said Henry, unconvincingly casual. “Nothing. We’re Potion partners. Just going over some homework.”

Which would all be well and good, except that sixth year Slytherins shared Potions with the Gryffindor and thus Tiberius was in Alex’s Potions class, not Henry’s. Yes, Alex definitely got the feeling that Henry was keeping things from her. He smiled again, and tried to change the topic.

“Hey, isn’t that Fred Weasley and Vera Summers up ahead? Are they are thing now?”

Alex looked up, and sure enough there was Fred and the pretty Hufflepuff walking further up the path, holding hands.

“I did hear rumours,” she admitted, and as she said it she felt an ever-so-slight twinge of jealousy in her stomach. Merlin. Did she actually miss Fred Weasley fancying her? “Augustus Smith and Oscar Kettler mentioned the other week that she fancied him.”

“Smith and Kettler?” he repeated, sounding amused. “When were you talking to them? Aren’t they mates with Potter and that now?”

“They’ve always got on,” said Alex. “But yes, I think they’re quite good friends now.”

He snorted. “Oh, Merlin. I always knew that Kettler was an idiot, but I thought that Augustus at least had some sense.”

And there it was. The constant niggling at Alex’s housemates, the condescending tone regarding everyone that wasn’t in his direct circle of friends.

Suddenly the prospect of a whole day in Hogsmeade with Henry didn’t sound quite so appealing as it had an hour earlier.

\---

“Go on, have another one.”

“No, no, no, I’ve already had three, and you keep on refusing to let me pay--”

“Too right. If I can’t buy my girlfriend a drink then what can I do?”

Alex smiled. They had been chatting quite merrily in the back of the Three Broomsticks for nearly two hours, joined occasionally by one of their Ravenclaw friends, and as it came up to three o’clock Henry had noticed that Alex’s drink was almost empty again.

“Come on, just one more,” he reasoned.

“You don’t have to,” she said, conscious of how much Henry must have spent that day.

“Rubbish. I’ll be right back,” he promised, kissing her forehead and he left for the queue. However, he hadn’t been gone two minutes before she was joined by another handsome sixth year. James Potter wore a broad grin as he slipped into the seat that Henry had vacated.

“Alex Morgan!” he greeted, seizing her drink and tipping it down his throat.

“Hey!” she cried, trying to swipe the tankard back but he had already drained its contents.

“Christ, Morgan,” he exclaimed, slamming the empty glass onto the table. “ _That’s_ sure as hell not butterbeer.”

“It was mead,” Alex told him crossly. “And I paid three sickles for it!”

“You can afford it,” James shrugged before peering at her over the menu. “Anyway, I’d’ve thought that holier-than-thou King would be paying for his girlfriend’s drinks, no?”

He had her there.

“Well, technically yes…”

“Ah ha!” James looked triumphant. “Of course he did. If the bloke was anymore boring he’d be asleep.”

“He’s a gentleman!” said Alex defensively.

“Not that much of a gentleman,” James mused. “He’s getting you drunk on mead, isn’t he?”

Alex rolled her eyes. "For your information, we've had an absolutely lovely day. He's bought me lunch, taken me to Honeydukes, given me this bracelet…"

"Yeah, I noticed that," James said, nodding towards the bracelet dismissively. "Very impressive, buying you expensive jewellery, booze, flowers… Here's a question for you, though, Morgan: do you actually like any of the classy, classy things that's King's got for you today? I bet that he didn't even ask you what you wanted to drink."

"I…" Alex's cheeks flushed red. How could he have possibly known that? "What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with my cousin?”

“She’s in the toilet, doing things I’d rather not know about. Anyway, I wanted to ask you something.”

Alex arched an eyebrow. “Oh really? And what makes you think that I’m going to answer, Potter?”

He considered this. “Tit for tat. I want to know something from you, and I’m ninety per cent positive that there’s something you want to ask me as well.”

Now how the bloody hell did he know that?

“No, I don’t,” she insisted, folding her arms.

James grinned. “If you say so. Now, Fred says I shouldn’t ask you this--”

“History dictates you probably shouldn’t then…”

“...but I want to know. I dunno if you’ve read the Prophet at all, Morgan, but I’m betting you heard about that article this morning. Shacklebolt’s resigning, Hector Evermonde taking over, the Statute of Secrecy being gotten rid off--ring any bells?”

He looked at her and for once he seemed serious, without a trace of amusement in those hazel eyes and a frown replacing the trademark grin.

“I…” She faltered, if only for a second. “No--I mean, yes I did read the Prophet this week, but I don’t see what that’s got to do with me.”

“Your dad was in the article.”

“Barely.”

“Uh huh. So I guess you skipped out the part where he was quoted then?”

Alex’s cheeks flushed red. “He was debating the pros and cons of it, that’s all! That doesn’t mean that he’s friendly with Evermonde or anything.”

“Uh huh,” James said again, in that same disbelieving tone. “Seems to me like he was taking a hell of a shine to the pro side.”

“Are you accusing my father of wanting to overthrow Muggles, Potter?”

Only then did James hesitate, although why she didn’t know. James Potter wasn’t exactly famous for his tact.

“ _No-oo_ ,” he said carefully. “Not that, exactly. But he’s high up in the Ministry, right? I just thought, since he seemed to be pretty opinionated in the Prophet, maybe he might know something about all this. Has he said anything to you about it? Or been acting weird lately?”

Alex didn’t entirely believe her housemate, but shrugged all the same. “Well, he hasn’t told me anything and I haven’t been home at all since this whole thing started, so I can’t speak for any change in his behaviour. But honestly, Potter, I know my father. He may be very traditional in his views but he would never propagate an idea like this.”

James nodded, seemingly accepting this. “Alright. Fair enough.” Another swipe of Henry’s drink. “So, you answered your question. Anything you wanna know from me?”

Alex toyed with her sleeve. “Alright. I suppose there is one thing I’d like to know,” she said hesitantly, hating herself for it.

“I stole the Map from my dad. My grandfather and his mates made it when they were at school years ago.”

She gaped at him. “How did you know I’d ask about the Map?”

He shrugged. “It’s an enchanted map showing everyone’s movements in the castle. Anyone would want to ask about it. But I was serious about not telling and that goes for the cloak too. Promise not to tell, yeah?”

“Promise,” Alex nodded, and she shook his extended hand just as Henry returned.

“Potter. Who invited you here?”

James looked at him with a delicate mixture of disdain and annoyance. “Oh sorry, King, I forgot you own The Three Broomsticks. Next time I’ll ask your permission before I have a drink.”

He frowned at him. “Obviously I meant why are you here with Alex? What are you two talking about? ”

“Celibacy meeting!” Alex burst out. Maybe there were things she kept from him too.

“Celibacy meeting?” Looking sceptical, Henry turned to James for confirmation. Alex had a feeling that it was only the opportunity to annoy Henry that caused James to go along with her. The confused look was only there for an instant before it was replaced by a beaming smile, the mischievous glint oh-so prominent in his eye.

“Better to be safe than sorry,” he quipped, drumming his fingers on the table. “I’ve actually got a picture of you by my bed, King, to put me off shagging when I’m feeling particularly weak-willed.”

“But--” Henry looked at her with apparent distress. “Wait, are you saying you’re not--?”

“Shut up, Henry!” Alex hissed, but it was too late; James’s face had already lit up.

“Oi, you’re not telling me King’s already gotten lucky, are you?” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “Oh, Alexandra, we’ll have _much_ to discuss in the next meeting...”

“James?”

Maya had returned from the toilets, arms folded and tone wry, and Alex had never been so happy to see anyone in her entire life.

“About time,” remarked James, entirely relaxed as he leaned back in his chair. “C’mon, have a seat. I was just having a lovely chat with Morgan here.”

Maya managed to conceal her grimace, but barely. “We can’t, James. We promised we’d meet my friend Leila and her date at Honeydukes, remember?”

Judging by the appalled look on James’s face, Alex was certain that this was a lie but in a another rare moment of tact he seemed to think better than to reveal this to the rest of the group.

“Alright,” he said wearily, getting to his feet. “But if she compares my hair to a birds nest one more time I’m leaving.”

“Wonderful,” beamed Maya. “Let’s go. Bye, you two.”

As the pair walked away (though in his case it was really more of a saunter) James called over his shoulder: "Enjoy the mead, Morgan," accompanied by a cheeky grin and a wink.

She fought a smile at Maya’s annoyed look, and Henry huffed beside her. “What’s his problem, anyway? Just barging on over here like that? Is he that big-headed that he just assumes that everyone’s just dying for a chance to talk to him?”

“He was just bored waiting for Maya,” Alex said, running her finger over the rim of her glass. “I was the first one he ran into that he knew. It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah. I suppose you’re right.” He shrugged and smiled. “How's the mead? That is what you wanted, right?”

Damn James Potter to hell.

\---

They sat in the Three Broomsticks together for a good while, and for most of that the names ‘Potter’, ‘Peters’, or ‘Weasley’ weren’t mentioned at all. Alex counted it a great success. Eventually they were also joined by Isaac, Kieran, and Zoey. That was less of a success.

“Oh dear, Alex,” Zoey said as Isaac wedged himself between Alex and Henry, and Kieran helped himself to her drink in a very James Potter fashion. “That skirt with that top? Your mother would be horrified.”

“Yes, thank you, Zoey,” Alex replied dryly; Isaac grabbed a handful of her chips. “Hey!”

“What? I haven’t eaten yet,” he sprayed back at her.

“So, Alex,” said Zoey snootily, “where’s your pet?”

Alex raised her eyebrows as Henry looked away uncomfortably. “My pet?”

“Mmm. You know--you’re little pet Flynn that you give treats to and take out for walks sometimes.”

“Terrible chat, Zabini,” Isaac said, rolling his eyes.

“Henry seems to find it funny,” Zoey shrugged. “That’s what he always calls Flynn after all.”

Alex turned to Henry sharply. “You said you liked Sarah!?”

“I do!” he insisted quickly, throwing Zoey a dirty look. “I haven’t called her that for ages… Stop shit-stirring, Zoey.”

“Whatever,” said Zoey, bored. “Where’s her royal highness, Miss Sarah Flynn, then?”

Kieran shifted uncomfortably and Alex said icily, “Somewhere with her brother, I’d imagine. They always go to Hogsmeade together.”

“Lovely. So I assume that they’ll be blowing up the Shrieking Shack and stealing from shops?”

“Still sounds better than being at Hogsmeade with you...”

“Alex!” Henry childed as Zoey glowed with anger and Isaac hid a smirk. “Zoey, don’t listen to her, she doesn’t mean that.”

“Yes, well…” Zoey shrugged (although nothing could shake the annoyance from her eyes) and Kieran tactfully decided to change the subject. Alex didn’t listen. Instead she sat there fuming about Zoey. At least, she thought, Sarah would have laughed at what she had said. Come to think of it, James Potter and Aaron Peters probably would have gotten a kick out of it too. Surprisingly, the thought pleased her a bit.

“Hey, Alex,” Henry went, breaking her out of her thoughts, and she turned to him. His eyes seemed to be trained on someone on on the other side of the tavern, though it was impossible to see exactly who amongst the sea of Hogwarts students. “Do you mind if I nip off for a bit? I’ve just got a couple of things I need to sort out.”

“Well… yes, I suppose so,” began Alex reluctantly but Henry cut off any possible questions by kissing her on the cheek and saying: “Great, I knew you wouldn’t mind--I’ll just be a few minutes.”

And he bounded off, leaving Alex in the company of Isaac, Kieran, and Zoey.

“Where’s he going?” the former frowned, straightening up in his chair at Henry’s departure.

Alex shrugged. “He didn’t say. To meet someone, I think.”

Now Kieran looked interested. “Did he say who?”

“Who cares who Henry’s gone off to meet?” Zoey asked irritably, flicking a crumb from lunch off the table. 

“Very true,” Kieran agreed, but Alex thought she saw him exchange looks with Isaac.

“He was talking to Tiberius Evermonde earlier,” she said suddenly. “I know that they’ve always known each other but they’ve never been that friendly.”

This time they definitely exchanged looks.

“Oh, you know how things are at school,” Kieran said unconvincingly. “You become friends with different people as you get older.” “Yes, but Tiberius Evermonde--”

“So anyway, what’s up with you, Morgan?” Isaac jumped in quickly and unsubtly. “You look like someone just pissed on your pygmy puff.”

The truth was that Alex was pissed off with Henry’s suspicious behaviour and his defending Zoey, but she could hardly say that in front of his best mates. “James Potter knows about my sex life,” she said instead, folding her arms.

“Hardly newsworthy,” Zoey remarked. “Everyone knows about your sex life.”

Alex stared at her. “What? What do you mean everyone knows?”

Zoey looked rather amused. “Oh, I would have thought it was quite clear.”

Her cheeks burnt bright red; fear bubbled in the pit of her stomach. “You mean he--Henry’s told everyone?”

“No, no, course not,” Kieran injected hastily, glaring at Zoey. “I mean, yes he told us that it… it happened, but I’m sure he hasn’t told anyone else. And he didn’t give any, uh--details or anything.”

Alex nearly laughed. “Oh, he didn’t give any _details_ , how _lovely_ of him, what a bloody _prince_ …”

Zoey rolled her eyes. “Sarcasm’s very unattractive you know, Alex. You’re spending too much time with Flynn. Besides, it’s probably just the Ravenclaws and Slytherins that know. Well, and the Gryffindors, I suppose, now that James Potter knows--”

“Shut up, Zoey!” snapped Kieran. “Look, Alex, Henry didn’t mean anything by it, okay, it’s just what guys do…” “No!” said Alex furiously, standing up. “Accidentally letting it slip to Potter is one thing, actively going out of your way to tell everyone is another--”

“Oi, guess what?!” Oscar Kettler appeared by their table, looking thoroughly excited. “Morgan, you might wanna step outside--your bloke’s just got into a fight with Aaron.”

Alex whipped around. “What?! What happened?”

“Went over to King and Evermonde and started--well, you know what Aaron’s like. He was looking for a fight, to be honest, and they’ve given him one. Just stepped out into the alley behind here. No magic.”

“You mean they’re fighting him _two on one_ \--?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Isaac looked as annoyed as Alex felt, and he and Kieran both stood up in one fluid motion just as another flustered figure joined their mist: Vera Summers.

“Alex! Oh Alex, have you seen Fred anywhere? He left about an hour ago with Molly Weasley, but I have no idea where he went, and now Aaron’s gone and got himself into a fight with Tiberius and Henry, and I have no idea where he is and I’m starting to get quite worried now because fighting someone two on one isn’t really fair and James Potter isn’t anywhere around here either--”

“Vera, it’s alright, calm down,” Alex interrupted. “I haven’t seen Fred since this morning.”

“I would have thought he’d be with you, Vera,” said Zoey archly. “Hasn’t given up on you for Alexandra here already, has he?”

“Shut up, Zoey!” fired Alex, Kieran, and Isaac all at once.

“I’ll go and find Fred,” said Vera with distress, and she dashed off into the crowd.

Isaac scoffed. “Oh, brilliant, what a perfect solution. I’m sure the presence of Fred fucking Weasley, who Henry fucking hates, will calm everything down.”

“But Aaron doesn’t hate him,” Alex reminded him. “Look, go and try and talk some sense into Henry. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Isaac frowned. “And what are you going to do?”

“Get back up.”

Now it wasn’t that Alex doubted Fred Weasley’s capabilities (she knew, despite everything, that he was the most efficient student in the school in reining in his loony best mates) but for this particular situation, heated as it was, she just had a feeling that this was a job for James Potter only. Not that she would ever admit that to Isaac or Kieran.

Maya had said Honeydukes and sure enough that’s where she found him. Looking sullen and incredibly sorry for himself (a combination that was very common for the Quidditch captain these days) he leant against the sweet shop window display watching whilst his girlfriend chattered away to Leila Popplewell.

Alex had never been more grateful to see anyone in her life.

“James!” she yelled, so loudly that all heads in the vicinity turned to her, including his.

“Morgan,” he went with surprise, straightening up and coming towards her; unfortunately Maya followed. “What’s the matter?”

“A fight,” she gasped as she came to a halt, more than a little out of breath. “There’s a fight outside the Three Broomsticks.”

“Oh Alex, can’t that wait?” asked an annoyed Maya. “We’re in the middle of a date here, and you’ve already interrupted once!”

Alex neglected to remind her cousin that it had in fact been James who had interrupted her own date and instead ignored her and focused all her attention on her housemate.

“It’s Aaron,” she said quickly, and James perked up at once. “It’s all so _stupid_ \--he’s got into a fight with Henry and Tiberius. They’re in the alley behind the Three broomsticks--I don’t know how it started, but--”

Maya folded her arms. “Honestly, it doesn’t take much brainwork to figure it out, does it? Aaron’s obviously just got bored again and is stirring up trouble for the sake of it...”

“And I’m sure Tiberius Evermonde was completely innocent in the whole thing,” she snapped back. “Look, I don’t know what happened exactly, but it’s two on one and Aaron doesn’t have anyone backing him up. I know Henry wouldn’t do anything awful, but Tiberius--”

“The alley behind the Three Broomsticks?” clarified James. She nodded. And that was all he needed to know. Without so much as a glance at Maya he took off down the street, leaving the two cousins facing each other.

“Just to clarify,” Maya said, “you’re here trying to get back up for Aaron Peters, of all people, rather than your own boyfriend who’s also involved in this fight?”

It was a valid point and Alex didn’t have an answer for it so she didn’t try to give one. Instead she turned on her heel and ran after James Potter’s rapidly disappearing figure. It was starting to rain.

\---

(Sarah)

Sarah’s morning didn’t start off well. She woke up late for a start, far later than she had intended to get up. The dormitory was completely empty when she finally stumbled out of bed (twenty two minutes past eleven) so the only plus of her slipping on the wet wooden floor as she went to the bathroom was that there was no one around to witness her crash to the floor. She had no clean clothes, it took her ten minutes just to find her wand, and she accidentally trod on a lost ink bottle rolling around on the floor; so, when the dormitory door opened half an hour later, of course it wasn’t Alex or Hilary or Fliss or someone that Sarah could mildly tolerate that walked in, but Grace Marshall.

The two stared at each other for a moment, exasperation mirrored in their expressions, and then Sarah gathered the rest of her belongings and Grace went to her bedside. She was nearly out the door before Grace called out, bitterly, spitefully, and with no ability to stop herself, “You’re being selfish, you know.”

Now, Sarah didn’t know this, but Grace had also had a bad morning. She had slept in late (not as late as Sarah but late still), was the last one to get in the shower, and waited two hours in the Entrance Hall for her date with seventh year Donald Finch before realising that she had been stood up. If Sarah was more perceptive, she might have noticed the other girl’s red eyes, or the sag in her shoulders, or even her smudged mascara.

As it was Sarah wasn’t very perceptive and so she turned around, rolling her eyes, and went, “What the fuck are you going on about now?”

“I said you’re selfish,” said Grace forcefully. “And I don’t care. I don’t care that James Potter let you onto his Quidditch team, or that Aaron Peters talks to you in lessons now, or even that I met Alex first and we’ve been best friends for over ten years and you’re trying to steal her away from me. I don’t care about any of that, because I know that you, Sarah Flynn, are a selfish, sneaky, little thief--and you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

Sarah gaped at the fuming girl, who stared right on back defiantly. If she weren’t so astounded, she would have been furious.

“Oh, fucking do one, Marshall. I’m sick to fuck of your Goddamn moaning every five minutes. You think I’m selfish? Fine. I couldn’t give less of a shit either way. But I’m not the one throwing tantrums every time Alex fucking takes a breath, okay? You want some advice, Grace? Grow up. ‘Cus eventually Alex is gonna get sick of your bullshit and sack you off altogether. And considering that she’s about the only thing you’ve got going for you, I’d fucking reconsider the way you go around acting.”

With a final disgusted look Sarah turned on her heel and stalked out of the room without a second glance, meaning that she was unable to witness Grace kick the side of her trunk angrily and burst into tears.

-

“You shoulda seen it, Chris. His face--I thought he was gonna cry!”

Davey Corner was positively jubilant as he told Christopher Flynn in what his mind constituted an epic tale, the slightly mad glint prominent in his eyes as he did so. In reality, it was actually a rather pathetic story--one involving Davey and Tobias cornering little Liam Pipps in the Charms corridor and hexing him until Alex Morgan came across them and intervened.

The group (six of them, with Chris and Davey leading the way whilst Sarah trailed behind) were nearing the end of the long walk from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade, and everyone was listening to Davey with rapt expressions.

Everyone except Sarah, that is.

“And then, Chris, get this--Morgan came, y’know, Sarah’s best fuckin’ mate, and she starts fuckin’ screaming at us. Bloody psycho, that one is… Anyway, she was there having a right tantrum, so me and Tobias, we look at each other and we make a run for it. She didn’t even put us in detention or nothin’!”

He grinned, looking around for some sort of sign of approval; Chris seemed distinctly unimpressed but forced a smile anyway whilst the other Hufflepuffs lapped it up.

“Oh wow,” sighed Charlotte. “And you left without even a scratch on you.”

“Yeah, very brave,” Sarah remarked. “Attacking Liam Pipps two on one, then running away as soon as he gets some back up. Very impressive.”

Davey stopped and glowered at her. “Oh, fucking shock that you would have a problem, Flynn,” Tobias bit. “S’pose you’re too good for that sorta thing now, are you?”

“Shut it, Gump,” Chris warned, eyes flashing. Tobias backed down instantly, a sulky look on his face, but Davey glared at his leader. The whole group had stopped now and all eyes were on Chris and Davey.

“Dunno what you’re defending her for,” the latter said spitefully, jerking his head towards Sarah. “It’s not like she gives a shit about you either way. Not now she’s got her precious Morgan…”

“Yeah, that’s right, Davey,” went Sarah. “I’m actually only physically incapable of maintaining one relationship at a time.”

“Leave it out, Davey,” Chris said impatiently, sending his sister a pointed look. “I’m sick of your Goddamn moaning all the time. If you’ve got a problem with Sarah--”

“Well shit, it’s not like I’m the only one…”

“Davey!” Edmund hissed, glancing at Chris. “Look, let’s just go to the Shrieking Shack, alright? I’ve got some fireworks from the Weasley place, we can blow the place out--”

“I’m not going with her,” said Davey furiousing, pointing at Sarah.

“Alright, fine. Don’t fucking come then,” Chris told him shortly.

There was a tense silence as Chris and Davey stared each other down. Several moments passed and then Davey averted his gaze.

“Fine,” he muttered, though hardly appeased; Chris nodded.

“Let’s go,” he said, and with murmurs of agreement they all started on the trail that led to the Shrieking Shack. All but one.

“Sarah?” Chris glanced over his shoulder and saw that his sister hadn’t moved. “You coming?”

Sarah hesitated then shook her head. “Nah… I don’t think so.”

“What? Why not?” he frowned, standing back as the others carried on up the path.

“I just don’t really feel like it. You go though. I’ll see you later.”

Chris stared at her. “Is this because of what Davey and Toby did?” he wanted to know.

“Nah, course not,” lied Sarah, knowing as soon as she saw his narrowed eyes that he didn’t believe her. When had she ever gotten away with lying to Chris?

“Oh c’mon, Sare, they’re idiots, you know that! Most of the time I’m surprised they know which end of the wand’s the right way up. You can’t pay ‘em too much attention.”

“That’s not the point,” she found herself saying. “They attacked Liam Pipps two on one, and I know he’s a pussy but it’s not fair.”

“Well, it’s not like we’ve never played dirty before,” Chris pointed out. “Look, I’ll talk to ‘em, alright, make sure they leave Pipps alone. But it’s just Davey being Davey, I don’t know why you’re kicking up a fuss about it. You never have before.”

And just like that Sarah found herself irritated with her brother and his need to defend Davey Stone.

“Look, forget about it,” she said petulantly. “Just go. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Chris frowned at her and opened his mouth to argue, but then Davey yelled out: “C’mon, Flynn!” and he closed it again.

“Fine then,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll see you back at the castle, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded and, still looking rather confused (and more than a little annoyed) Chris ran off to where Davey and the others were waiting impatiently. She looked after them, just for a few seconds, before turning around and setting off back to the village.

She felt oddly uneasy walking into Hogsmeade on her own. She was used to it at Hogwarts--during lessons, in the Gryffindor Tower, at mealtimes--but she had always, always gone to Hogsmeade with Chris by her side. She hoped he wouldn’t be sulking with her later. Normally the thought wouldn’t even cross her mind, because it was Chris and he usually didn’t do that sort of thing, but now…

She continued on up through the village deep in thought, and although she spotted a few people that she recognised there was no one that she knew well enough to stop and chat to. Maybe she should look for Alex--but no, she’d no doubt be with either Henry or Martha or one of those other Ravenclaw bellends that she hung out with. She didn’t know anyone on the Gryffindor team well enough to hang out with any of them, and her dormmates Hilary and Fliss were stuck in the castle in detention that day for not doing homework. Which left her with precisely nobody.

She was just considering going back to the castle--really, it was just embarrassing trudging around Hogsmeade alone--when her saviour came, in the form of a tall, cocky boy with curly brown hair leaning against the window of Dervish and Bangs: Aaron Peters.

“Well, well, well. Sarah Flynn,” he went as she approached. “No brother keeping you on a leash today?”

“No Fred keeping you on yours?” she jibed back. He gave a broad grin. “Touche. Fred’s on a date, believe it or not, and has elected to not reveal his location lest I bother, annoy, or generally embarrass him.”

“Fred’s a very wise man.” Aaron agreed. “That seems to be the popular opinion. Shame Morgan can’t see it. Oi, don’t s’pose you could put in a good word for him, could you?”

She snorted. “Mate, I wish I could. She’s still stuck on King.”

“Gross.”

“Right?”

“S’pose it doesn’t matter much. She’ll come around. Sixteen year old girls always come around.” Sarah raised her eyebrows. “Yeah? How’d you figure that?”

Raising a hand to ruffle his hair (Sarah was sure at least six girls in the vicinity swooned) Aaron smiled knowingly and said, “Never seen a Muggle film?”

“No,” she said. “Oh wait--we watched Titanic in Muggle Studies. That count?”

He pulled a face. “Did you throw up from the sap? Fucking Titanic, out of all the films Artie could have chosen? Well, whatever. Point is, you mark my words, Flynn: Morgan will stick around with King for a bit longer, realise he’s wrong for her, spend some time finding herself or some shit before realising how right dear old Frederick was for her all along and end up happily in love or something equally sickening.”

“So basically Fred’s the Jack, Al’s the girl, and Henry’s the rich knob?” “Pretty much.” He blew his hands to ward off the biting winds and looked Sarah over. “So where you off to, then?” “Nowhere in particular.”

“Seriously? It's a Hogsmeade weekend. You don’t have any plans?”

Sarah looked defensive. “I don’t see you with anyone, Peters.”

Aaron rolled his eyes. “Alright then, you’re coming with me. Congratulations, Flynn. You’re now tragic enough that you warrant even my pity.”

“Oh goody,” said Sarah sarcastically, but she still allowed herself to be towed along by her companion along the crowded street.

“Oh, and incidentally…” He glanced over his shoulder and gave a winning smile. “You don’t happen to have two sickles, do you?”

\---

Darrell Adler was an interesting girl; a Ravenclaw in their year with wavy dark hair and a fair complexion, she had a boyish figure, with a chest almost as flat as Sarah’s, and an upturned nose, freckles, and laughing brown eyes. Sarah didn’t know her very well (much like herself, Darrell seemed like the type of girl who was more at home in the company of boys rather than girls) but she had always liked her. Despite their limited interactions Darrell was one of the few in their year who had never treated her differently because of her last name.

“Late again, Peters,” she told Aaron reproachfully, slumping in her seat as they approached. “What is this, the twelfth time?”

“You know me,” Aaron said lazily, offering her a grin as he took a chair. “I like to make an entrance.”

Sarah remained standing, a bit non-plussed. “Peters, have you brought me along on one of your dates?” Darrell burst out laughing and Aaron looked rather offended.

“Oh, he _wishes_. We’re just friends.”

“Like you’ve got the time anyway,” he countered. “Too busy juggling all those other boys.”

“Oh, don’t you slut-shame me, Aaron Peters. At last count we’ve got with the same amount of people!”

He considered this. “Yeah, fair enough. Oi, are you gonna sit down any time soon, Flynn?”

Sarah did so and Darrell shoved a butterbeer her way. “Here, you take that. I got it for Aaron, but he’s never going to be able to fill that fat head of his anyway, so what’s the point in trying?”

“Cheers,” she snorted, happily taking a gulp. “Ah, don’t look like that, Peters. I’m sure your mother loves you.”

“I should fucking hope so.” Aaron stood up. “Ok well, I’m going to get myself a drink, apparently. I should have known bringing you two together was a bad idea…”

He departed and Darrell turned to Sarah immediately, her eyes bright. “So,” she said, leaning so far forward that her dark hair brushed against the sticky table surface, “what’s the deal with you and Aaron?”

Sarah stared at her. “Huh?”

“What’s the deal?” the other repeated, more impatiently this time. “I know it’s none of my business and all, but fuck that. Aaron never brings girls along to meet his mates and I’m curious. Are you two getting with each other or something?”

“Oh shit, yeah--we’re in love, didn’t he say? We’re thinking a spring wedding…”

Darrell pulled a face. “Ha ha ha. Didn’t anyone ever tell you sarcasm is the lowest form of wit?”

“James Potter, actually.”

“The best man at this beautiful spring wedding,” Darrell remarked. “So I’m assuming that nothing is going on then?” Sarah confirmed this. “Weird. I mean, no offence, but I’ve known those boys ever since first year and they’re not exactly the type to pick up randomers along the way. Tight inner circle, y’know? Though I suppose you are a hell of a lot different to the Zoey Zabini’s and Clio Smith’s of this school.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Sarah watched Aaron flirted with the pretty barmaid. “So what about you? Peters an ex-boyfriend or something?”

Darrell smirked a bit. “Not really. Well, not in the romantic sense. We’re each other’s firsts.” At the look on Sarah’s face she added, “I know, tragic isn’t it? We were both piss-drunk at the end of last year and it sort of just happened. Happened a fair bit since then too, if I’m being honest, which apparently I am. Still, we’re just mates though. Definitely just mates.”

“You are such a fucking cliche, you know that, right?” Sarah went, shaking her head, just as Aaron came back with a drink in hand.

“Oh completely,” agreed the Ravenclaw. “Incidentally--I don’t really fancy being called a slag behind my back by the likes of Grace Marshall and her bitchy little minions. Don’t tell anyone, yeah?”

“Don’t tell anyone what?” Aaron asked, taking his seat again. “Our sordid romantic history.” He grinned. “Why? You ashamed of me, Adler?” “Oh, of course not, Aaron,” she deadpanned. “Who could ever be ashamed of you?”

“My mother.”

“And so she should be. I heard what you got up to with Tilda Waltham last week.”

“Well, that’s nothing to be ashamed about. She’d only let me finger her.”

Sarah snorted. “Oh, fucking _lovely_ \--”

“Tilda doesn’t like me,” Darrell lamented. “She always thought there was something going on between me and Oscar back when they were a thing.”

“To be fair, Adler, everyone thought that…”

“We’re just friends,” insisted Darrell. “It’s not my fault I get on better with boys than girls. Anyway, Aaron, if you wanted to impress Waltham maybe you should have told her how you caught Rigby and Selwyn.”

Judging from the roll of his eyes, Sarah guessed that this was a conversation that the pair had had many times before. She was pleasantly surprised that it seemed as though Aaron had stuck true to his word and not told anyone they were the ones behind it.

“Darrell, my dear, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said innocently. “James, Fred, and I were drinking in the seventh year dorms that night, and Rigby and Selwyn definitely weren’t there.”

Now Darrell rolled her eyes. “Right, you keep up with that story, yeah? I know Oscar and Gus were involved cause of all the stupid hints they’ve been dropping, and there’s no way they’d catch Rigby and Selwyn on their own.”

“I find them clumsily endearing,” Aaron agreed, swigging back his drink. “Still, nothing to do with me.”

“And I suppose it’s just a coincidence that Rigby and Selwyn can’t remember anything that happened that night and Fred’s probably the only person in the whole bloody school whose memory charms are good enough to evade the teachers? Or that about a million fireworks were used to distract Jenkins and you three have the biggest collection out of anyone I know? Or that I spoke to Sam and Adam the other day and they said that you woke them up that night coming into the dormitory at five in the morning?”

“Innocent until proven guilty,” chanted Aaron lazily. “All conjecture, Adler.”

Darrell huffed and slammed her tankard down onto the table dramatically. “I don’t know why you lot won’t just _say_ ,” she grumbled. “I mean, everyone’s just assuming it was you anyway. Embarrassed of actually doing some good in this school, I suppose?”

Aaron caught Sarah’s eye and winked, and she said dryly, “Only if you count doing good in this school as fingering Tilda Waltham in a broom cupboard.”

Darrell threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, I like this one. Where did you find her again?”

“She joined the Quidditch team.”

“Oh yeah. How’s that going for ya?”

“James Potter is a fucking lunatic, and we practice for about a hundred hours a week,” said Sarah frankly. “But I guess it’s okay.”

And Aaron smiled at that, because he had heard that kind of ‘okay’ before and he knew what was behind it. “Well, whatever,” Darrell went. “As long as you lot beat Ravenclaw in the final, I couldn’t care less.”

Sarah looked confused. “You know that you _are_ a Ravenclaw, right?”

Darrell grimaced. “Yeah, but our captain’s Henry King, and I’d rather see my house lose than see him win.”

“Even his own housemates hate him,” mused Aaron. “That’s comforting I s’pose. And speaking of…”

He craned his neck and looked across the pub. The girls turned too and saw Henry apparently deep in conversation with Tiberius Evermonde.

“I wonder what those two could possibly have to talk about?” Aaron said, his eyes glinting.

“It’s not worth it, Aaron,” said Darrell in a low voice. “There’s two of them and one of you, and I’m sure as hell not getting involved in your stupid games.”

“I could still win.”

“That’s not the point.”

But Aaron got up anyway and Darrell slumped down in her chair. “Well, shit. Don’t suppose you could talk any sense into him?” she asked Sarah.

She snorted. “You think I’ve got any control over that maniac?”

“True. Where’s James or Fred when you need them?”

Unfortunately at that moment in time James and Fred were nowhere to be seen, with the former being dragged around Honeydukes by an enthusiastic Maya Fawley and the latter making his way back from a family meeting that had been significantly longer than the ten minutes promised. Thus, there was no one to stop Aaron from sauntering over to where Henry King and Tiberius Evermonde sat, whistling a jaunty tune with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“Well, well, well,” he said loudly, coming to a halt in front of them. “Didn’t peg you two for an item, I’ll give you that. Did you at least buy him flowers, Tiberius?”

“C’mon,” Darrell muttered to Sarah, heaving herself up and grabbing her arm. “Join me in babysitting the two year old.”

The two girls hurried over to where onlookers were already starting to flock, and positioned themselves by Aaron.

“Don’t you have some Hufflepuffs to hex?” an annoyed Henry was saying. “Mmm. Bit fifth year that. Though I suppose maybe some fourth year Hufflepuffs would pose more of a challenge than you, King.”

“Don’t push me, Peters. I could curse the shit out of you if I had to.”

“Yeah? Have at it,” enticed Aaron. “But I don’t think you will. You don’t have the balls.”

Pride was an annoying thing.

“I can take you anytime, Peters,” Henry snarled. “You really think a fucking low-life like you--”

“ _Henry_.” Tiberius’s smooth voice quietened even the chattiest of first years as he tilted his head and evaluated Aaron in the way one would evaluate a prospective business opportunity. “No need to get so agitated. If Peters wants a fight…” Tiberius smiled, his eyes sly, “then he can certainly have one.”

If Aaron was surprised by the Slytherin’s words he didn’t show it; in his eyes there was a hard glint that Sarah failed to recognise, completely devoid of his usual good humour. “Evermonde, the only way you two could take me in a duel is if I were wandless.”

“Oh, duelling isn't what I had in mind, Peters,” replied Tiberius. “You love Muggles so much? How about we do it their way?”

And now Aaron grinned, a full on shit-eating grin, and Sarah realised this was probably what he had been after all along. “You’re on.”

Augustus Smith, who had been watching the scenario unfold from nearby, stepped forward. “Aaron, mate,” he said cautiously, “d’you think this is a good idea?”

“Yeah, I reckon so,” he replied, punching him on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry, Smith--I can handle these two pillocks.”

And so the boys moved out into the back alley behind The Three Broomsticks and at least twenty students followed eagerly as the whisper of ‘fight’ echoed around the pub, Sarah and Darrell among them.

Gus grabbed the latter’s arm just as they were about to go outside. “We’re gonna go get James and Fred,” he said quickly, indicating himself and Oscar. “Keep a Goddamn eye on him, will you?”

“Will do,” Darrell replied with a salute, and he disappeared into the crowd.

It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t glamorous or dramatic or anything like what fights are shown as in films. Instead it was three teenage boys who didn’t really have any experience in the area throwing clumsy punches and staggering around in the rain. Although Aaron was probably the most able fighter of the lot, he also had the undeniable disadvantage of both being outnumbered and against opponents who weren’t afraid to fight dirty. For every punch that Aaron got in, they got in two more; for every kick, every blow that he sent their way, he was doubled down with even more in return.

Winded and with bruises already blossoming across his face, Aaron stumbled forward, catching Tiberius square in the nose so that blood spurted everywhere, and bowled Henry over around the stomach so that they both hit the floor; Aaron’s chin exploded with blood as it smashed into the ground, and Sarah winced when Tiberius turned and smashed his foot down on Aaron’s fingers.

“Dirty move,” said Darrell angrily. “DIRTY MOVE, Evermonde, you prick!”

Henry heaved Aaron up, pinning his arms behind his back, and Evermonde stepped forward and punched him, again and again, until blood was pouring from Aaron’s nose and dripping onto the ground.

“Fucking hell,” Sarah said with disgust as around her students cheered and booed and shouted; she shoved her satchel into Darrell’s arms. “Here, hold this, will you?”

Darrell looked surprised as she took the bag. “Wait, what are you doing? You’re not getting involved are you?”

“Well, someone needs to fucking do something, look at them…”

In the end Sarah didn’t need to intervene. At that moment James Potter and Fred Weasley came bursting from inside the pub, wands out and faces drawn, with Alex and Vera Summers followed closely behind.

Upon seeing their best mate beaten and bloodied on the floor fury positively radiated from the two boys, and with a bang Henry and Tiberius were thrown backwards as James caught them off guard.

“Good timing,” Sarah said as Alex came sidling up to her. “You should really start keeping tabs on your boyfriend, y’know.” “What the hell happened?” she demanded, ignoring the jibe.

Sarah considered this. “Well, Aaron pissed off King and Evermonde and goaded them into a fight, so those two teamed up to beat the shit out of him. King didn’t hold back, either.”

“ _Of course…_ ”

Meanwhile, James and Fred helped Aaron to his feet.

“Two on one, King?” James spat. “Really? Don’t get me wrong, I’d expect it from the likes of Evermonde, but I thought even a bellend like you was above that.”

Tiberius had recovered quicker than Henry, and he staggered to his feet wiping blood from his chin. “Get off your high horse, Potter,” he spat.“It was your boyfriend here who started it.”

“Shove it up your arse, you twat, I don’t give a fuck who started it. Get out of here, or I swear to God next time you’ll be the one who’s outnumbered.”

Evermonde made to argue but then James raised his wand higher and he seemed to think better of it. With none of his cronies around to back him up, he got to his feet and shoved his way past the crowd. As he passed Henry he called out, “Not to worry, King. Next time.”

“Oh, _really_.” Alex looked furious as she stalked up to her boyfriend and grabbed his arm. “Come on, Henry. Of all the stupid things…”

The couple departed, both as irked as the other, and Darrell glanced at Sarah. “Wanna get drunk with Oscar and Gus? I reckon these three princesses will be arguing for a while.”

Sarah glanced over at James and Fred, who did indeed seem to be exchanging harsh words with their rather worse-for-wear friend.

“Fuck this,” she agreed, and the pair returned to the pub as well. “What the fuck, mate?” James was saying, looking down at his best mate.

Aaron grinned back stupidly, swaying a bit as the two held him up. It had started to rain in earnest now, and raindrops intermingled with the blood running down his face. “Ah, this is nothing. You shoulda seen the other guy.”

“We _did_ see the other guys,” Fred told him in annoyance. “Why the hell did you start a two on one fight for no bloody reason?” “I dunno. To ease the sexual tension?”

Fred huffed and James shook his head in disgust. “Jesus, Aaron. Why the fuck d’you do it?”

Aaron wilted and for a moment James and Fred thought they had gotten through to him, but then he shrugged. The crowd had dissipated now and it was just those three left in the alley with the rain splattering down on them. “The hell else is there to do?”

 

**A/N: Okay, I know it’s been AGES since I’ve updated but this chapter is long as balls so hopefully that makes up for it. Apologies for the hiatus there, but I’d love to hear your thoughts on the chapter!**


	7. The Secret Scoundrel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was raining. It had been raining most days in the November of that year, and though there hadn't been many of those so far (it was only the 8th), there wasn't any signs of the gloomy weather improving at all for the upcoming Quidditch match on Saturday.

It was raining. It had been raining most days in the November of that year, and though there hadn't been many of those so far (it was only the 8th), there wasn't any signs of the gloomy weather improving at all for the upcoming Quidditch match on Saturday.

This didn't particularly matter to James. In fact, he enjoyed Quidditch more in the rain. Being an exceptionally gifted player who had not inherited any of his father's poor eyesight, the rain did little to block the Chaser's vision and thus he found the downpours kept him mostly refreshed during practices.

If only the same could be said for the rest of the Gryffindor team, who had been moaning and groaning for the duration of the session.

"Alright!" James shouted, giving a short, sharp blast of his whistle; the sound echoed around the nearly empty stands. "That's enough now! Come in!"

From the bottom of the wooden stands, he stood and watched his team swoop down, wiping the drizzle from his face. The rain had made his hair look even messier than usual, and his Quidditch robes were stained with mud and--because of a particularly violent Bludger sent his way by Roxanne--blood. On any other sixteen year old boy, it would have looked sloppy. On James, it worked.

"Not bad today," he said, and the team collectively rolled their eyes. "No, seriously. Slytherin don't stand a fucking chance on Saturday." Checking his watch, he saw that it was already half past nine. "Alright, go and get changed. Good work today."

And it was with satisfaction that James watched the team trudge back to the changing rooms. Lucas had improved greatly over the years, and Jordan had finally gotten over her disgruntlement of not making captain. The only weak spot was…

"Flynn," James called, beckoning her over, "a word?"

Eyeing him wearily, Sarah stomped over, her broom trailing in the mud behind her as she did so. "What?" she said irritably.

If any other player had spoken to him like that, James would have made them run laps. As it was, he could see how strained she looked, and so he displayed some rare tact.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said sullenly.

“Yeah? Not at all scared for the match?” Sarah glowered at him and he sighed. “Look, it’s normal to be nervous before your match, alright? But honestly, Flynn, you gotta get over that now alright, ‘cause you were killing me with your flying today. You’re dodges were sloppy and there were at least three times you could’ve caught the Snitch but fucked it at the last minute." She opened her mouth to argue but James stopped her just as Amelia Jordan came hurrying up. "Not now, Jordan. I'm in the middle of a pep talk."

"Is that what that was?" Sarah asked incredulously as Amelia rolled her eyes.

"We've got company, Potter," she grunted, pointing. James looked over, and saw that this was indeed true. Striding across the pitch, wearing identical smirks, were Bruce Warrington, Nathan Hynes, and none other than Tiberius Evermonde.

James swore loudly.

"You shouldn't swear, you know James," Roxanne said mildly as he stalked past them towards the approaching Slytherins. Fred jogged after him, signalling the others to stay back; they all complied quite happily.

"Don't rile them, James," Fred warned him. "You don't want to cause trouble right before the game…"

"Right, because they're here to hold hands and make daisy chains," James said sarcastically, wiping a smear of mud from his face.

"Evening, boys!" Evermonde called out smugly.

"Tiberius," replied James blithely. The two came to halt several feet away from each other, and in the face of the Slytherins Fred adopted a defiant stance. "I didn't realise you hadn't learnt to count yet."

Although his smile didn't fade, Evermonde's brow did furrow. "What are you talking about, Potter?"

"Well, my dear Tiberius, as I'm sure your clever little brain has worked out, there are seven of us. I'll be generous and say that Warrington counts for half a person, so that's two and a half of you. And even if six of us were bound and gagged, I'd still bet that even Lucas Philips could take on you lot any day of the week. You see where I'm going with this?"

Evermonde narrowed his eyes. "Funny, Potter," he commented. "Very funny. Tell me, are you planning to rely on your jokes for the rest of your life?"

"Well, either that, or all the money that I'm set to inherit from my family..."

Tiberius took a step closer and instinctively James did the same. The team had all stopped what they were doing and were watching apprehensively from a distance. “How’s your little friend doing now, Potter? Haven’t seen him around much lately. Is dear old Peters not ready for round 2 yet?”

“If it was a fair fight Aaron would’ve won and you know it. Don’t think we’ll forget about that either.”

Warrington perked up. “Oh, you’d better be careful, Potter. If you’re plotting something against us we could stop you--we could tell someone…”

"Oh really?" Fred actually laughed out loud. "And what would you do, Warrington? Run to Hockley and Longbottom and tell them that James Potter and Aaron Peters are _up to something_?"

Hynes and Warrington at least had the grace to look embarrassed; Evermonde, however, chuckled. "You should be scared, Weasley. You have no fucking idea what's coming."

"What the hell’s that supposed to mean?" James demanded.

"It means that things are changing. Shacklebolt's got one leg in the grave, and your father doesn't have the influence he once did, Potter. So if I were you…" Evermonde took another step closer, "I'd be a bit more polite."

"And if I were you, Evermonde," James said conversationally, "I'd stop telling everyone what to do. Might piss some people off, you know? "

The Slytherin smirked. "Or what, Potter? You'll hex me? The school may throw a parade every time you throw a dungbomb, but you know I won't go down as easy as the 'Puffs." His eyes trailed to where the rest of the team stood watching with trepidation. "I see you still haven't rethought you're decision to turn the Gryffindor team into a charity case. How is dear Sarah coming along?" James tensed. "Ah. Not so good, then."

Hynes laughed. "I've heard that her dad beat her up so bad when she was younger, she lost half her brain cells. She'll probably end up catching the Quaffle thinking that she's won the whole fucking…"

However, Nathaniel Hynes had been unable to finish that charming little connotation, due to James Potter punching him rather suddenly in the face. The action seemed to surprise him as much as it did the three Slytherins. Whilst all had been fully prepared for a duel, Muggle-style fighting had been completely unprecedented and as such the action took them all a few moments to process.

Then the rest of the Gryffindor team converged.

"Jesus Christ!" Amelia cried. "Didn't think Potter had it in him!"

"Potter, you idiot!" shouted Dougal. "You'll be banned from the match!"

"Fucking hell, James!" Fred exclaimed, just as Sarah came and peered over his shoulder.

"Impressive," she said, nodding approvingly at Hynes' whimpering form splayed on the ground. "Though clearly you've never hit anyone before. You punched with your thumb inside your fist. It's broken."

"Oh." James stared at his broken thumb, looking momentarily put out before shrugging his shoulders and saying, "Ah well. That explains it… hurts quite a bit. Maybe next time."

"Next time?" Dougal sighed.

"Nathaniel, get off the floor," Evermonde drawled with vague disgust. "You're embarrassing us."

Still clutching his nose, and swearing with such vigour that it impressed even Sarah, Hynes clambered to his feet, his dignity very much in tatters.

"You'll be sorry for that one, Potter," he spat, a rather manic glint in his eye. "You'll be cut from the team when the teachers find out about this. McGonagall will ban you from Quidditch!"

"Oh, go to hell, Hynes." Fred rolled his eyes. "If you think one of us aren't going to volunteer to punch James in the face and say that you socked him one first then you're sadly mistaken."

"You're bluffing," said Warrington, but he looked dubious. Calling a Weasley out on a bluff was not a feat that any student of Hogwarts carried out lightly.

"Please," Sarah snorted. "I'd happily punch Potter in the face, even without the incentive."

"Wouldn't expect anything less, Flynn," sneered Evermonde. "Tell me, will your dear old dad be coming to watch you play on Saturday? After all, what father in the world would want to miss his darling daughter play her first Quidditch match?"

"Shut up, Tiberius," Dougal said, sounding bored. "That shit's old. See who's laughing on Saturday, yeah? Sarah could destroy Malfoy in her sleep."

Sarah looked as though she'd rather Dougal hadn't said this, if the glare she threw him was anything to go by.

Evermonde laughed. "Oh, I'm sure you're right, Dougal," he said sarcastically. "I'm positive on Saturday Sarah here will dazzle us with her Seeking skills. But just to be safe, maybe book her a bed in the hospital wing, Potter. I have a feeling she's going to be in for—"

He stopped abruptly as James and Fred pulled their wands out in one fluid motion. Tiberius Evermonde may have been first class in undermining and taunting but he was no fool, and knew better than to start a duel with the pair. "I suppose we'll just have to wait until Saturday. Come on, you two," he motioned to Hynes and Warrington, his eyes not straying from the wands. "Let's go."

"What a coward," Roxanne said, looking almost disappointed as they went.

"Or a massive prick," said James. "Don't listen to a Goddamn word he says, alright? Flynn, Roxy, Lucas, take the balls back to the shed. And Dougal, Amelia, you two can take the Beaters' bats back."

"What about Fred?" Roxanne asked sulkily, pointing.

"I'm about to criticize every aspect of Fred's performance today right down to how he tied up his laces before practice began. But I suppose if you wanted, you two could swap..."

Roxanne tore after Sarah and Lucas.

"Well, that was brilliant," Fred said sarcastically, once she was out of earshot. "Well done, James. You successfully managed to demoralise the whole team in less than five minutes."

"Oh, go snog Vera Summers some more," said James childishly, and Fred flushed (although he also looked rather pleased with himself). “Where’s Aaron anyway? He said he’d be here by now.”

Fred shrugged. “Probably got sidetracked by a girl. Good thing, too. If he were here after Hogsmeade…”

“Bet that’s what Evermonde was doing down here,” James agreed. “Getting to us two before the match by provoking Aaron. Fucking prick.”

They both watched the three Slytherins disappear from view. “We’ve got to keep Aaron away from him,” Fred said after a while. “I don’t like it, something’s off. Evermonde’s more pleased with himself than usual.”

“If we win the match he’ll go quiet for a bit anyway.”

“Yeah, but even if we don’t win. Even if we lose by a million fucking points and Evermonde crowns himself King of Hogwarts, you need to make sure you don’t lose your temper with him and you need to keep Aaron out of his way. Molly agrees with me.”

“Molly worries too much.”

“ _James_.”

He threw his hands up in the air. “God, why am I getting so much grief about this? I don’t control Tiberius Evermonde and I sure as fuck can’t control Aaron. What can I do about it?”

“You’re James Potter.”

It wasn’t really an answer and yet it was the only answer that mattered.

“Oh come on,” James scoffed. “Don’t give me that. You’re one of the only people in this place that knows that ‘you’re James sodding Potter’ crap is just a pile of piss.”

He was wrong, but Fred didn’t correct him. “Come on, James. Give me a break here, yeah? All I’m asking is for some peace and bloody quiet for a few months.”

It was only because of Fred. If it had been anyone else in the world that had tried to tell James what to do in any form he would have laughed in their face. But it was Fred Weasley, his cousin and cohort and partner in crime before even Aaron had come along.

You can’t say no to that.

“Alright,” James agreed. “We’ll stay away from Evermonde.”

And, he supposed, a bit of peace and quiet couldn’t be all that hard to find really.

How wrong he was. 

* * *

 

Match day did not arrive unceremoniously. Whilst years of peace had cooled the enmity between the houses considerably, nothing could stir up old tensions between Slytherin and Gryffindor quite like Quidditch matches—especially with the political climate being what it was. Professors Longbottom and Hockley spent much of the week leading up to the game breaking up duels between third years, attending to jinxed faces and exploding cauldrons, and halting several attempted assaults of both houses' common rooms; and at the centre of it all stood Tiberius Evermonde and James Potter, locked in a heated rivalry.

By Friday morning, both boys were accompanied by entourages of almost-ridiculous proportions; the former surrounded himself with the whole of the Slytherin Quidditch team whilst Fred and Aaron were constantly by James’s side, as well as a swarm of other Gryffindors. It was almost a relief for the rest of the school when Saturday dawned, dull and gloomy and raining like every other day that November.

James had the entire team assembled in the Great Hall by nine o'clock that morning, each given a plate loaded with eggs, toast, beans, and sausages. By quarter past, Sarah still hadn't touched a morsel of hers, and was saved from James's rant only by Vera Summers, who came to meet her boyfriend.

"Happy birthday, Fred!" she greeted, kissing him on the cheek. "Ready for the match today?"

"You bet!" he said cheerily; James grimaced. Against all odds, Fred and Vera's Hogsmeade date had been a relative success and ever since then the Hufflepuff had been popping up a bit too frequently for James and Aaron's taste. Certainly more than he allowed Maya to hang around for anyway.

"We'd better get going, Fred," he said, draining his pumpkin juice. "Come on, team!"

"Ooh, I'll come!" Vera said brightly.

James rolled his eyes. "Great. You coming, Flynn?"

Sarah had not moved a muscle, opting instead to carry on glaring at the rainy ceiling.

"I'll be there in a minute," she said testily. James wasn't entirely satisfied with that response—he wasn't convinced that she wouldn't do a runner the moment his back was turned—but then Roxanne said, "Yeah, I'll go with you, Sarah. I haven't finished my eggs yet," and he nodded. Roxanne was tiny, and troublesome, and totally terrifying, and if he had to put money on her or Flynn in a fight, it would be the former any day.

"Alright," he said, swinging his broomstick over his shoulder. "We'll see you two out there." On the way out of the Hall, they passed Alex, who was going in.

"Hey, Morgan!" James called out and she paused. "Would you be able to talk to Flynn for me? She's a bit nervous. She needs a pep talk, and apparently none of mine are taking."

"I'm sorry, I thought you were James Potter?" Alex said mockingly. "Aren't pep talks something of a speciality?"

"James is more of a tough love sort of guy," Fred explained, eyeing his cousin. "He just spent the last ten minutes trying to get her to eat by saying that Warrington will pulverise her into dust if she doesn't. I don't think that's the best approach to take in this particular situation."

"No, probably not," agreed Alex. "Well, don't worry. I was just on my way to see her anyway so I'll see what I can do."

"Great," said James with relief. "Thanks. C'mon Fred… Vera… Let's go."

"Good luck," called Alex after them, and Fred threw her a smile over his shoulder, still hand in hand with Vera.

The Great Hall was abuzz with chatter, typical of breakfast before a Quidditch match. A flock of sixth and seventh years congregated around Sam Mason in between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, undoubtedly getting their bets in before the match, and over at the teachers table Professor McGonagall could be seen exchanging fighting words with Professor Hockley, the Head of Slytherin.

Sarah was sat next to Chris and Roxanne Weasley, and did indeed look like she might vomit at any given moment. Alex had never seen anyone look quite so pale.

"Hullo," she said warmly, sliding into the seat opposite. "Good luck today." "Cheers, Al," Sarah replied gloomily, prodding her uneaten breakfast with her fork. Chris jerked his head. "Just eat it, Sare," he said. "I'm not hungry." "Sarah…" "Christopher…" "You're not funny."

"And you're not persuasive. Eat your own damn breakfast." "Sarah, eat the food or I'll stop proofreading all of your Potions essays," Alex said firmly, not even glancing up as she dished herself a large bowl of porridge. Sarah stared at her then at her breakfast, before picking up her toast and taking a huge bite.

"Happy?" she asked, spraying crumbs everywhere.

"Oh, I'm ecstatic," Alex assured her, looking contrarily disgusted.

Chris glanced at her; he seemed almost annoyed. "You're watching the match today?" he asked her, eyeing the Gryffindor scarf bundled around her neck. "Didn't think you liked Quidditch."

"Oh, I don't really," said Alex. "I never really got the hang of flying. But I thought I'd give watching it a try today since it’s Sarah’s first match and all."

"What she means is that I bullied her into coming," Sarah told Chris, and there was the ghost of a grin on her face.

"Right," he said, and this time Alex was sure that he was annoyed about something. "Why don't we go down together?" she suggested, taking a mouthful of porridge. "Seeing as we're both going to watch Sarah and all."

"Um—well, I'm not actually watching the match," Chris admitted, looking down at his own plate. "Davey's been a bit off with me lately—he's still sulking about that Pipps thing, I think—so I said we'd try and see if we could sneak into Hogsmeade whilst everyone's down by the pitch."

There was a clatter: Sarah had dropped her fork and was staring at Chris, taken aback. "What, you're not coming?" "Uh… no. But look, Sare, if it's not alright, I can go…"

"What? No. No, course not. It's fine," Sarah insisted with an expression on her face that absolutely did not look like it was fine. "I mean, Al's still coming, right?"

"Of course," Alex assured her and Sarah properly grinned.

"See?" she said to Chris. "Told you. It's fine."

Chris looked back and forth between the two girls, looking not very happy at all.

“Fuck it," he said suddenly. "Fuck Davey. 'Course I'm coming to the match."

Sarah gave a shout of laughter and whacked Chris’s shoulder and Roxanne commented dryly: "How lovely. Now, can we please get moving before James murders us?"

Sarah groaned but stood up. "You coming, Al?"

"You go," she said vaguely, gesturing to her unfinished breakfast. "I'll see you out there. Good luck!"

Alex ate her breakfast at a leisurely pace, rather enjoying the rare moment of peace, and by the time she was finished the Hall was nearly empty as the masses began to converge to the Quidditch pitch. She drank her tea, stood up, and joined them, feeling (for perhaps the first time in her life) rather out of place as she walked alone on the outskirts of the rowdy crowd.

Well, she wasn't alone for long, at any rate.

"Morning, Morgan," a familiar voice came from behind and, as he was wont to do, Aaron Peters appeared suddenly at her side, a rather mischievous smile on his face. Whether that was because he had partaken in the Gryffindor tradition of Quidditch breakfast shots or he was simply excited for the upcoming match, Alex didn't know. Nor did she want to.

"Good morning, Aaron," she replied sunnily. "You're looking cheerful this morning," he noted, falling into step with her. His hands were in his pockets, and he sauntered along with the same demeanour he always did—rather as though he were doing the air a favour just by breathing it. "No bitchy comment or angry look? It’s alcohol, isn't it? Has King gotten you drunk again?"

Alex elbowed him. "I am stone cold sober, thank you," she said. "And I never make bitchy comments."

This garnered a snort. "Yeah, alright. I'll remember that next time you call me a good-for-nothing wanker."

Alex was certain that she had never called anybody that in her life, but she neglected to correct this. Instead, they walked in an oddly peaceful silence for a few minutes.

"Am I to take it," she said at length, her eyes twinkling, "that I'm going to be graced with your dazzling company today?"

"I s'pose so," responded Aaron casually. "Figured I'd do my good deed for the day—after all, if I hadn't gallantly come to your aid, I reckon you'd be stuck watching the match with the likes of Martha Ackerly or your dearly beloved boyfriend. Imagine the horror. Only Bobby Matthews would be worse."

"Very noble," she remarked. "Though if that's the case, I do have one condition for you."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"Nothing too challenging. You just can't insult any of my friends or Henry. I know it may be hard for someone of your mental capacity, but miracles do happen…"

Aaron groaned. "Not one insult?"

"Not a single one."

"You drive a hard bargain, Morgan. But fine. Not a single word against Prince Charming or the ugly stepsisters."

"Stepsisters?"

" _Ugly_ stepsisters. You know, Marshall, Ackerly, Zabini…" He ticked the names off on his fingers; Alex shook her head.

"You know you've already broken your promise?" she scolded. "In less than ten seconds too…"

"So I did," said Aaron mildly. "Will you be docking points?"

Alex sighed. “No. It wouldn’t make any difference anyway. You never listen.”

“Damn right. House points are outdated if you ask me. Just a way for the teachers to get us to pander to their every whim. Hey, so where is your boyfriend anyway? You two didn’t actually break up over that Hogsmeade thing, did you?”

Alex arched an eyebrow. “‘ _That Hogsmeade thing_ ’? You mean when you got absolutely pummelled by Henry and Tiberius Evermonde by running your mouth off again?” He shrugged. “Well, we’re still together. I’m not completely happy with him though. I wasn’t that happy with you either actually, but Sarah argued your case.”

“Did she?” went Aaron, looking pleased. “Absolutely sound, that bird is. Wait, so if you two are still together then shouldn’t you be ignoring me or something?”

“He asked me not to talk to you,” Alex admitted. “But I think he’s being stupid. You’re no prince but he wasn’t innocent that day either. Attacking someone two on one… honestly.” “Huh. And why am I being given so much more leeway than his Royal Highness then?”

“I expect more from Henry whereas you, Aaron Peters, are a scoundrel,” she told him with dignity, and Aaron looked absolutely delighted at that.

“A scoundrel? Oh, I absolutely love you, Morgan, you know that? I don’t think I’ve ever been called a scoundrel before… A menace maybe or a delinquent, but never a _scoundrel_.”

Alex frowned. “Well, you weren’t meant to enjoy it so much.”

“I reckon you’re a bit of a scoundrel yourself, Morgan,” Aaron said thoughtfully, positively bounding down the path to the stadium now. “Maybe a secret scoundrel. After all, you’re talking to me against the wishes of your dearly beloved boyfriend; you’re friends with Flynn too, and she’s a scoundrel if ever I saw one--”

“Stop saying scoundrel so much, okay, it’s starting to sound weird now--”

“And,” he continued on loudly, “don’t think I’ve forgotten that you were the ringleader of our Muggle Studies classroom crusade. If it weren’t for you we never would’ve caught Rigby and Selwyn. Yeah--you’re a secret scoundrel alright Morgan.”

She couldn’t help smiling a bit even as she argue the point. “Rubbish. It might’ve been my idea but you would have caught them without me there. I still think--”

But she broke off as someone shoved past her. She was just about to give an annoyed ‘Hey!’ when she saw who it was and her blood ran cold: Zoey Zabini, strutting along with her nose high in the air and her dark shiny hair streaming along behind her.

“Oh my God,” she said, clutching Aaron’s arm. “You don’t think--”

“What?” He looked up and saw Zoey ahead. “Oh. You think she heard the Rigby and Selwyn thing? So what if she did?”

“My parents,” Alex said faintly. “If my parents find out…”

“You’ll be in the shitter?” he guessed and she nodded. “Huh. Weird. My mum couldn’t give a shit about what I get up to at school. Well, you might as well forget about it now--nothing you can do about it and all. Deal with Zabini later.”

Alex wasn’t so sure that this was the best advice but she supposed it was the only thing she could do since Zoey had disappeared into the crowd and they had joined the surge milling up to the Gryffindor stands.

Deal with it later. How odd it was to be accepting advice from Aaron Peters.

"Oh no," he groaned as they pushed down one of the emptier rows, "not here. We're right behind Fawley and Gollum!"

Alex was surprised when she saw that Aaron was looking at her cousin Maya and Dominique Weasley. She had thought that she was the only one at Hogwarts that held any sort of hostility to her popular cousin.

"What's wrong with that?" she wanted to know. "I thought you lot were all friends?"

Aaron snorted. "Yeah, well… She's not exactly fond of me," he muttered, glancing around. "Thinks I'm some sort of bad influence on James, can you believe it? Fuck, those seventh years are blocking the way, how are we supposed to—why, hullo there, Fawley. Fancy meeting you here."

"Funny," Maya replied sardonically, having turned her head at the sound of Aaron’s voice. She caught sight of Alex standing next to him, and one impeccably groomed eyebrow arched. "Oh—Alex. I didn't expect to see you here."

Especially with him, her expression seemed to say. Dominique voiced it seconds later.

"Oh lord," said the beautiful blonde, rolling her eyes. "First Flynn, now Peters. Honestly, Alex, are you asking to wind up in Azkaban?"

"As delightful as ever, Gollum," Aaron said mockingly, just as a head materialised as if from nowhere between Aaron and Alex. A moment later Alex recognised it as Sam Mason’s, who was leaning down from the row above.

"Morning, everyone," he said, beaming. "How are we all today?" And then, before anyone could answer: "Care to place any bets? It'll be a long match today, Gryffindor and Slytherin—might up the ante a bit."

"What sort of bet?" Alex asked curiously.

"Anything you want," he replied breezily. "Length of the match, what fouls will be committed, number of goals scored… I have excellent odds."

"Yeah, go on then," said Aaron, reaching into his pocket and tossing his dorm-mate a few coins. "Five galleons Evermonde commits a foul in the first ten minutes."

"A galleon on Gryffindor to win," decided Alex after a moment.

"Fantastic," said Sam delightedly, putting the coins in the pouch around his neck and making a show of scribbling down the bets. "Find me after to collect any winnings. Dominique, Maya, care to make a wager?"

"No, thank you," said Maya politely.

"I'm telling Fred," Dominique announced, scowling at Aaron, and Sam quickly withdrew his parchment and money bag. "I bet he won't be happy that you're getting Alex into this rubbish."

"It's just a bit of harmless betting, Weasley," Aaron replied, rolling his eyes. "And I pity you if you think Fred will give a damn either way." "It's instigating violence," Dominique insisted, more for the sake of arguing than anything. "I'll tell Molly—she won't like this!"

"Aw, don't be a spoilsport, Weasley," Sam whinged, just as another voice called out: "What was that, Dom?"

Molly Weasley herself was shuffling down the row with a couple of friends in tow, peering down at her cousin through her thick glasses. There was a woolly Gryffindor scarf tied around her neck and her hands were adorned with scarlet and gold gloves. "Ah, Sam! I've been looking for you. Three galleons for Roxanne to hit a Slytherin before the first goal's scored."

Aaron's hysterical laughter at Dom's expression was drowned out only by Louis Weasley's voice belting out throughout the stands.

_"And here they are, ladies and gentlemen, the players of one of the most anticipated matches of the Quidditch Cup! Gryffindor are looking exceptionally confident this year, led by James Potter…"_

Louis's voice was drowned out by yells as the Slytherin team entered the pitch, though perhaps Tiberius Evermonde's appearance was accompanied by perhaps as many boos as there were cheers. Of course, this did not manage to wipe the smirk from his face.

_"Slytherin of course have been showing a particularly strong side over the past couple of years, though they're reliance on foul play under their latest captain has undoubtedly hindered them…"_

"Keep it unbiased, Weasley!" Professor Hockley barked.

Down on the pitch, James and Evermonde were shaking hands. "Don't be too hard on yourself, Potter," sneered the Slytherin. "It'll probably be a difficult job when you have to try and talk Flynn out of jumping off the Astronomy Tower later."

"Is everyone ready?" Professor Thomas asked, placing his whistle to his lips. "On three… two…"

The whistle blasted.

_"And Malfoy and Flynn are off straight away, Flynn being the latest edition to Potter's team… An as-of-yet unknown talent, though if landing a spot on James Potter's team is anything to go by then she's got all the marks of being a player to watch. She is, of course, the replacement for third year Ben Macdonald, who was banned from ever playing Quidditch at Hogwarts again for flying into the Whomping Willow. Shame too, he was an excellent Seeker…"_

Alex had never been to a Quidditch match before. The large, boisterous crowd and increasingly competitive nature of the game had always been enough to deter her from ever attending the games, despite Henry's position as Ravenclaw Seeker. However, even just sitting in for the build-up of the game had been enough to show her what she had been missing. The excitement in the air was palpable, and as the players took to the air, she had to admit that she now regretted her stubborn refusals to attend any previous games with Grace or Henry.

_"And Gryffindor are off to a spectacular start, with Jordan taking the Quaffle and dodging both Slytherin beaters… She passes to Potter, who heads for the goalposts… Sullivan's looking fierce, might be a tricky goal… HE SCORES!"_

There was a deafening roar from the Gryffindors which James barely even seemed to acknowledge; the Quaffle was in Slytherin's possession, and he had shot after Scott Risley without a moment of celebration. However, James attempts to get the Quaffle were in vain; as the two flew side by side, Risley stuck out his elbow and jammed it so it caught James in the neck.

"No, James!" Aaron bellowed. "Punch him in the face! Punch that twat in the fucking face!"

"Like poetry," Alex commented dryly, but evidently the crowd was of Aaron's opinion, as boos and angry yells erupted throughout their side of the stands.

"And that's a penalty for Gryffindor!" Louis sang out, evidently unconcerned for his cousin's wellbeing. "As a result of Cobbing from Slytherin Chaser, Scott Risley. Dougal Shaw comes forward to take it, and…. YES, HE SCORES! 20-0 to Gryffindor!"

And Dougal _did_ celebrate, posing and showing off for the crowd—that is, until Roxanne whacked him in the side with her Beater's bat.

_"So Slytherin back in possession now, Eugenia Pyle streaking down the pitch, heading for goal and—damn—dodges a Bludger from Roxy Weasley, going for the goalposts… Come on, Fred!_ "

Alas, moments later the cheers came from the supporters clad in silver and green, and Fred punched the goal post in annoyance as Eugenia celebrated Slytherin's first goal of the match with her fellow Chasers.

"So explain something to me," Alex said absently to Aaron, her eyes still focused on the game, "if Potter—that is if James—has the Quaffle, does that mean that the beaters can only hit Bludgers at him?"

Aaron glanced at her, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Are you serious?"

"Humour me."

"Alright. Well, the beaters can hit the Bludgers at—PUFFET, WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT, YOU STUPID, LITTLE PRICK?!"

Shouts of outraged joined Aaron's as Alex's head whipped around to see what she missed; one of the Slytherin Chasers had just collided into Fred, nearly knocking him from his broom, to make the goal clear for Eugenia Pyle who scored once more.

_"Outrageous! Doyle Puffet of Slytherin has just committed an atrocious act of Stooging against the Gryffindor Keeper! And… yes, Professor Thomas has revoked Slytherin's goal, and surely it won't be long before there's retaliation from Gryffindor…_ "

Louis was right: just minutes later, a Bludger came Roxanne Weasley's way. She lifted her bat, swung it forwards, and didn't think twice about where to send it packing. The Bludger collided with Evermonde's cheek with an almighty smack, and the Slytherin stands exploded with boos.

"Excellent shot, Roxy!" Molly shouted happily from beside them.

_"…not the usual build for a Beater, but a cracking player nevertheless, Roxanne Weasley sends a Bludger straight for Slytherin Captain Tiberius Evermonde's face! That has got to hurt, ladies and gentlemen, and Evermonde does not look at all happy…"_

He wasn't wrong, if Evermonde's angry shouts and gestures to Bruce Warrington were anything to go by.

"Is it always like this?" Alex asked, appalled.

"In Gryffindor Slytherin matches? Oh yeah," replied Aaron grimly, his eyes focused on Evermonde. "That rivalry's way too old for any clean games."

The match wore on, the rain pouring down more and more heavily as it did. Hours passed, more than even Sam Mason had predicted, and by the time the clock struck three even Aaron's yelling had deceased. There was a tense atmosphere in the stadium, as Malfoy and Flynn circled over their teammates, both searching desperately for any glint of gold or a snatch of feathery wings.

"Come on, Sarah," Alex murmured, more to herself than her companion as the Gryffindor Seeker swooped over their heads, her expression gritty.

James scored again and again, despite the onslaught of Bludgers being pelted at him, and by the time the clock struck three the score was 210-120 to Gryffindor; this did not mean, however, that Gryffindor were playing superior Quidditch.

"Do the Bludgers usually just go after specific players like this?" Alex asked after yet another Bludger shot after Fred whilst James missed the other by mere inches as he followed Dougal down the pitch.

Aaron grimaced. "No. That's just Evermonde and Warrington. They, uh… they don't like us very much. I reckon they must be aiming for James and Fred."

Half an hour later, James called for a time-out, and the Gryffindor team gathered at the foot of the stands.

"Flynn, I swear to God, I'm going to murder you," he snarled, glaring at his Seeker. " _Get that fucking Snitch_."

"I'm trying!" she said defensively. She was soaked to the bone, though the rain had mostly died down now, and her hands were still shaking despite the warming Charm that Amelia had cast on the team, giving her an overall impression of looking rather like a drowned rat. James noticed this and his expression softened slightly.

"Alright, alright. Just—just catch it, okay?" he said, rather hopelessly. "Rox, Luke, aim for the Chasers. Forget about Malfoy, he's waning, he's not cut out for this weather. Fred, you're doing good, just keep an eye on the Bludgers, they're bloody everywhere today…"

"Evermonde's aiming them for you two," said Dougal grimly. "I heard him shouting to Warrington."

"Oh, brilliant," Fred said sarcastically. "I told you not to piss him off the other day James…"

"It's Potter," Amelia chipped in sourly. "Tormenting Slytherins is his speciality."

James glared at her. "Jordan, your passing's been shoddy and Sullivan's blocking most of your goals. Shut it, alright?"

They stood there in silence for a moment.

"This birthday _sucks_ ," said Fred.

In the stands there was much debate as to what was happening.

"They're breaking," Alex heard Adam Kendall say sagely to Sam. "They won't last ten minutes into this half, I'm telling you."

"Fuck." Sam looked down at his listed bets in dismay. "Most people have put their money on Slytherin winning."

"What's going on?" Alex asked worriedly, craning her head to see the team. "They don't look happy. Are they arguing?"

"Don't worry," Aaron assured her. "Our Chaser's are annihilating Slytherin’s. We only need a few more goals, and then it doesn't matter about the Snitch at all."

"And is that good for Sarah?"

"Well, it takes the pressure off her, if that's what you mean. Doesn't matter so much if she doesn't catch the Snitch. 'Course, she'd get a lot of stick later on though, being a new player and all…"

James sighed and rubbed his temples. "What's the score?"

"260-140 to us," Roxanne told him. "Their Chasers are playing like shit. But that won't be enough for us to win when Malfoy gets the Snitch."

"Thanks, Roxy," said Sarah sarcastically.

"She's got a point," Amelia said.

"Oh, go fuck yourself, Jordan…"

"Yeah, lay off, Mel—"

"What did you just call me, Weasley?"

"Oh, for the love of Merlin…"

"Enough!" James yelled. He looked over at Professor Thomas, who signalled that their time-out was over, and ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "Look, it's pissing it down, I'm freezing my arse off, and Evermonde's apparently making it his own personal mission to kill me. We don't have time for this shit. Flynn, don't listen to Roxy. You're doing fine, just get that Goddamn Snitch, alright? Roxy, Lucas, go for the Chasers. Fred, watch out for Evermonde and Warrington. And Jordan, Dougal, I want you two to play the best fucking game of your life, okay? I mean it, if I see you let those fuckers get hold off the Quaffle, I will personally make sure that you never enjoy another moment in this shithole ever again until the day that you're both fortunate enough to leave. You got it? Let's go!"

It wasn't every Hogwarts student that could intimidate two jaded and experienced seventh years, but then again, James Potter was not just any Hogwarts student. Spurred on by James's rather blunt speech—or, perhaps, merely apprehensive of the threats—the six Gryffindors returned to the pitch with a grim determination and thunderous applause from the crowd immersed in scarlet and gold. Amelia and Dougal were the most determined of all, both fully aware that the outcome of the match rested on their shoulders.

" _And Gryffindor make an absolutely fantastic recovery, after hours of shaky play!" Louis announced happily into the megaphone. "Potter with the Quaffle and—wait no, it's Jordan—and Potter again—bloody hell_!"

Louis's commentary could barely keep up with the pace of the Chaser's, as they scored goal after goal, their improved performance inspiring a resurgence in the crowds cheering, so much so that many of the elderly teachers took to charming their ears to make themselves oblivious to the screams.

However, those cheers were nothing when compared to the roar that shook the stands fifteen minutes later when the Snitch was sighted. As Slytherin scored another goal, making the score 300-150, Sarah suddenly made a dive towards the edge of the Hufflepuff stands.

"The Snitch!" Molly cried. "She's seen the Snitch!"

It was a remarkable moment, where several things seemed to happen at the exact same time: Eugenia Pyle dropped the Quaffle, James Potter caught it, Lucas Philips belted a Bludger towards Slytherin's Keeper and missed, and Scorpius Malfoy dove after Sarah so swiftly that they were neck and neck.

"She'll never save it," Aaron said about Carlotta Sullivan. "Not against James, he's too good."

Even Alex could see that the she was cracking. Sullivan was a decent Keeper under ordinary circumstances, but she wasn't cut out for long tense matches like this. She crumbled under pressure and her Keeping was no match for James's Chasing skills.

Malfoy knew all of this. He knew that James Potter was a damned good Chaser, and that Sarah Flynn was nervous, and that Carlotta was waning, and so he also knew that it wasn't so much Flynn that he was racing but Potter, who was hurtling towards the Slytherin goalposts faster than Scorpius's own broom was soaring towards the Snitch.

"COME ON, JAMES!" Maya screamed.

"SHOW 'EM HOW IT'S DONE, JIMMY!" bellowed Aaron. Malfoy surged his broom forward, but even as his hand reached out towards the Snitch, a good foot in front of Sarah's, even as Louis Weasley's voice turned to nonsense and the roars of the crowd faded from his mind, he knew that it was no good, as James took aim and tossed the Quaffle powerfully and precisely towards the Slytherin's left goal hoop.

"And Potter scores!" Louis shouted at the same moment that Malfoy's hand closed around the Snitch. "And —Jesus Christ—Malfoy gets the Snitch!"

It took approximately five seconds of mental calculations before realisation dawned, and he screamed delightedly into the microphone: "GRYFFINDOR WIN!"

* * *

 

The Lions had always prided themselves on their parties; it could always be expected that the morning after a Gryffindor party, stories would spread like fiendfyre throughout the school, be it an illicit get-together between two unexpected students, or a drunkenly thought out prank on a housemate gone wrong. That evening's festivities were no exception, especially considering there were two celebrations to be had: Gryffindor's win, and Fred Weasley's birthday.

As was their birthday tradition, Aaron and James had liberated two jarveys from Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class for Fred, and so the three were gathered around trying to teach the animals swear words in front of a rather large crowd; books had been shoved from the bookshelves in favour of butterbeer, firewhiskey, and other beverages of the alcoholic variety, and this time it had been Hilary Ash and Felicity Parish who had been tasked with stealing the record player from poor Artie's classroom, which was now blasting out an old Weird Sisters song in the corner.

Perhaps the only person not joining in the festivities was now sat alone in front of the fire, having spent most of the evening holed in the dungeons with her brother and his friends. As Aaron had unwittingly predicted earlier, Sarah Flynn had already taken a lot of stick for her failure to catch the Snitch (though Chris had ensured that Davey and the others had stayed silent on the matter), and, unlike her peers, was not in the best of spirits.

For the most part the Gryffindors left her alone; however, it was impossible to elude them completely, as was proven three hours into the raging party when a familiar figure finally broke free from his girlfriend's adoring arms and sauntered over. She looked up and James Potter stood there, a bottle of Fire Whiskey clutched in his hand. His grin was chaotic, wildly self-aware: he really did look every inch the Quidditch hero, right down to the casual lean against the fireplace.

"Fuck off," she said shortly. This didn't deter him.

"What's with you, Flynn?" he demanded, needing no invitation to settle himself down beside her on the sofa. "We won!"

"Only because of you," Sarah pointed out gloomily. "I missed the Snitch."

James snorted. "Yeah, I caught onto that, funnily enough. Don't think you'll be getting away with that at next week's Quidditch practice, either."

"Next week's practice? You should throw me off the team."

James raised his eyebrows. "Why the fuck would I do that?" "Have you not been listening…?"

"Yes, I've been effing listening! So what, you didn't catch the sodding Snitch? You got unlucky, that's all. We all get unlucky. But you're a good Seeker. I wouldn't've taken you on otherwise."

"That's bullshit," Sarah argued. "I’m not as good as Malfoy, and I’m probably not as good as King or Hope either. And, hang on—what was it that you were saying at practice on Monday? _You're a devil for getting hit by Bludgers and your flying's not good enough to make up for that_? Face it, Potter. You picked me because you didn’t want an annoying twat like Martha Ackerly on the team. Simple as that."

For a moment she thought she had him stumped. But then…

"Buggar that," he scoffed. "You're just in a bad mood and want to feel sorry for yourself. Well sorry, but I'm not going to cater to your little 'Oh, look at me, I'm so poor and victimised' party. Suck it up, Flynn. And go easy on yourself. It was your _first_ game and the other three have been Seeking for years. You flew well today. It's not your fault that Malfoy's such a quick little fucker."

And Sarah just didn't have an answer for that, so surprised that she was. James stood up.

"C'mon," he said, jerking his head to where the rest of the team stood on the other side of the room. "I have a loud, obnoxious speech to make about how great I am, and I want all the team there. And I s'pose I should embarrass Fred or something. It is his birthday, after all. You coming?"

Sarah hesitated for a moment and then nodded. Against all odds, she did feel better—it was a miracle really, since not even Chris could cheer her up earlier.

Who knew that James Potter could be so reasonable?

* * *

 

The halls of Hogwarts were always quiet after a Quidditch match, and usually Alex liked it that way. It was one of the only times that it was actually peaceful during the daytime and Alex and Henry had long since made it a tradition to go for a walk around the castle after Quidditch matches.

Usually they were very chatty during their walks; that day they walked in an awkward silence.

It was the first time she seen him properly in weeks.

“So who did you watch the match with earlier?” he asked, for lack of anything else to say.

_Oh, just one of the boys you consider your nemesis_. That would certainly ease the tension.

“Hilary and Fliss,” she lied.

“Not Grace and Martha?”

“No. I was running late. Didn’t see them. Besides, I wanted to see Sarah before the match.”

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “That’s good of you I suppose. Giving support to someone like her.”

“Well it’s not like she’s a charity case.” She stopped as they approached the portrait of the Fat Lady and studied his face. “You don’t mind that I’m friends with Sarah, do you?”

Henry shifted. “It’s not that I mind exactly. I know you get a lot of grief about it and I don’t want to pile onto that, but… I’m not going to lie, I worry about it sometimes. About whether she’s a good influence on you or not. And I know, I know,” he added as Alex started frowning, “you trust her, which is fine. If I’m being honest I don’t think she’s anywhere near as bad as those stories you hear about her lot but... I don’t know. With a family like that I can’t really help but think that some of it’s got to rub off.”

Alex considered this. “Yeah, I understand what you’re saying. I don’t like it much, but I understand it.” She squeezed his arm. “I’ll see you later, okay Hen?”

“Wait,” he said and she turned back around. He looked nervous. “Alex, we… we are alright, aren’t we?”

She hesitated. She knew that ever since the Hogsmeade incident with Aaron and Evermonde she had been off with him despite his numerous apologies. She had been making excuses and avoiding him, and Henry for his part hadn’t made much effort either--maybe he was trying to give her space. She knew that if she wanted to stay with him then they would have to talk through their issues at some point.

She would have to admit that she was unsure about them.

She couldn’t do it then though. She couldn’t bring herself to voice those doubts because Henry was comfortable and familiar, and he had never given her a hard time about Sarah like Grace did, and her parents absolutely doted on him and, perhaps above everything, she knew that he was a good person despite what had happened with Aaron.

And so she smiled up at him, squeezed his hand and said, “Yeah. Don’t worry, Henry, we’re alright.”

“Good.” He leant forward and kissed her. “So can I come in for a bit? Or is it strictly Gryffindors only?”

Knowing full well that at least half of the party-goers insider the tower would be from the other three houses, Alex shook her head in pretend disappointment. “Just Gryffindors, I think.”

“Fair enough. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” And, giving her a final kiss, Henry walked back down the corridor and Alex turned to the portrait hole; the Fat Lady was eyeing her disapprovingly.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she told her defensively. “Gurdy root.”

Upon entering the common room Alex saw that the party was in full swing: over by the fireplace the Gyffindor team were leading the celebrations, third years were taking it in turns to steal alcohol from the drinks table when prefects weren’t looking and on the other side on the room Grace and Martha sat away from all the revelry, both talking rapidly with very serious expressions.

Thinking that she knew exactly what the topic of conversation was, Alex snuck through the common room quickly so to make it to the dormitory without being spotted.

“Oi, Al! ALEX MORGAN!”

It was Sarah of course, standing over by the fireplace with James and Aaron, and a fourth year that Alex recognised as James’s brother. All four looked like they were already drunk and Alex could practically feel Grace and Martha’s eyes boring into her from behind and figured since she’d already been spotted anyway she might as well go over.

“Sarah Flynn, there are music, fireworks and over a hundred drunk Gryffindors making noise in here and you _still_ managed to deafen me,” Alex commented as she approached the group. “Though you look much happier than when I saw you earlier so I’ll let it slide--who ended up talking some sense into you?”

Sarah grinned as James slung an arm around her shoulder. “Potter here, actually. Mad, innit?”

“Wait, are you telling me that James successfully comforted someone?” Albus interjected, looking very impressed. “Oh, I’m gonna write to Mum, she won’t believe this…”

“No, don’t do that, they’ll start having high expectations of me,” James complained, taking a swig of Odgen’s and missing so that it dribbled down his chin. “Oh shit…”

“Nah, you're definitely safe,” Sarah said, and James lunged for her middle and started swinging her about, inadvertently sending a waterfall of vodka over a group of nearby third years.

“Hey! Potter--oi, get off me--”

“What was that, Flynn? Do you want to take that back…?”

“Never!” Sarah yelled. She tried to scrabble out of James’s arms but he clung onto her middle tightly.

“Oh, no you don’t, Flynn…”

“Are they flirting?” Albus wondered.

“Probably,” shrugged Aaron, examining his empty cup with a frown. “Actually scratch that. James doesn’t flirt with girls that aren’t Fawley.”

Albus raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything as he continued to watch the pair argue.

“Hey,” Aaron said suddenly, still squinting at his cup, “James stole my firewhiskey!”

And he ran off to join James, who had hoisted an unenthusiastic Sarah over his shoulder (“Nice arse, James.”) and was now showing her off and exuberantly proclaiming to onlookers that _this is what happens when you disrespect the Quidditch Captain._

“So, you’re Alex Morgan right?” Albus asked her conversationally; he spoke to her with far more confidence than most of his peers would when conversing with an older student.

“That’s right.”

“Maya Fawley’s cousin?”

Alex gave him a tight lipped smile and nodded.

“Ah. I know that smile. It’s the same one I do when someone asks me if I’m James’s brother.”

“You mean you don’t like being James’s brother?” Alex asked curiously.

“Eh, you know what it’s like I guess,” Albus said cheerfully. “Wizarding families. There’s always a lot of expectations. In a family as big as mine it’s hard not to get resentful of them all at some point or another. Well, except Fred. Though I guess that’s hardly fair. I mean, come on, a few Slytherins and Ravenclaws aside who doesn’t like Fred?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Alex said after a moment’s consideration. “Where is Fred anyway?”

Albus chuckled. “Oh, he’s with Vera Summers somewhere being sickening. First girlfriend, you know? I reckon he’ll probably be spending a lot of time with her for the next few weeks.”

“Hopefully not for too long,” Alex commented as Aaron nearly set fire to a group of second years with his wand as he bickered with James and Sarah. “He’s at least ninety percent of James and Aaron’s impulse control.”

He smiled at that. “Yeah, true. How did you end up involved with these lunatics anyway?”

Alex thought about it. “Through Sarah, I suppose. She joined the team and I tutor her.”

“Yeah, she just tutors me, I swear,” came a voice from behind and Sarah was back, having been released by James. “We’re not friends or anything, it’s purely professional.”

“Yeah, you don’t wanna put labels on it too soon,” said James seriously. “Morgan’s already involved in a serious friendship with Marshall, and everyone knows you can’t just go around being friends with more than one person.”

“It’d be just awful to be known as a buddy slag after all,” Aaron chimed in with a solemn expression, and the three of them dissolved into giggles.

“Y’know, I’m not sure it was a good idea bringing these three together,” Albus said thoughtfully just as James and Aaron started yelling jokes in the general direction of Grace and Martha.

“Shut up, you two,” Alex hissed as she yanked Aaron’s arm down, but Sarah were practically crying with laughter and so of course she couldn’t help cracking up too.

Even Albus was grinning. “Alright, I’m going to find Rose before I get murdered by sheer association with you lot. Well done, James--it was a great game.”

He left and James turned to Aaron, his eyes dancing. "Mate," he said, "we _destroyed_ Evermonde."

" _You_ annihilated him," Aaron corrected, laughing merrily. "It'll be a long time before the tosser shows his slimy little face again."

It had certainly been a sight. As soon as the Slytherin captain had seen that James had scored moments before Malfoy had caught the Snitch, he had thrown his Beaters bat to the ground in temper, missing Professor Thomas by mere inches.

“Oh shit, incoming,” Aaron said, pulling a face as he looked across the room. “Marshall’s on her way over.”

James groaned. “Fuck sake. Morgan, I hope this isn’t gonna become a regular hazard with you hanging around.”

“It’s not my fault, you two were the ones antagonising her just now!”

“Good point, well made. Annnd she’s coming... she’s coming… she’s coming… Oh hullo, Marshall.”

Angry as Grace obviously was she couldn’t resist flashing James a smile. “Hello, James. Great party.” The smile faded. “Alex, a word?”

Alex threw a desperate look at Sarah, James, and Aaron but they were too busy trying to hold back laughter to acknowledge her plea for help. “Um… yeah, sure.”

Grace led her from the stairs over to the drinks table (the other three burst into a loud chorus of ‘Oooohhhh’ as they went) and rounded on her with her hands on her hips. “So is it true?”

She sighed. “I guess you spoke to Zoey.”

“You’re bloody right I spoke to Zoey,” Grace fumed. “Well? Is it true? Come on, Alex. Tell me she was lying.”

Alex felt her mouth go dry. “Please don’t tell.”

“Oh my God. _Oh my God_. I don’t believe you!” Grace looked furious. “You give me all this grief about being mean to Flynn and making fun of her, and then you go and do this. Stabbing one of your oldest friends in the back by trying to get his brother expelled.”

Her mouth drop open. “Don’t act like that’s even close to the same thing! Francis deserved it! Did you see those messages he was leaving? They were sick!”

“Isaac’s your friend!” Grace snapped back. “And you know what, even if Isaac and Francis weren’t involved in this at all, what the hell were you thinking?! It’s stupid and dangerous running around the castle at night--”

“Oh so now going after those two was stupid and dangerous?” said Alex. “That’s weird because when you were sure that it was just Aaron and the other two behind it you were saying how brave they were--”

“Oh, so he’s _Aaron_ now--”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Since when are _you_ friends with _them_?”

Alex stared at her; Grace’s cheeks were flushed red with embarrassment but she still looked defiant. Suddenly Alex realised the real reason her friend was so upset. “Oh my God,” she said. “This is about Sarah, isn’t it?”

“No!” said Grace defensively, but Alex pulled a face and her shoulders sagged. “Alright. I don’t why you got yourself involved in this, and I really don’t know why you’d get Isaac’s brother in trouble--but you told Flynn. You and her were in on this together, and you didn’t tell me. I bet you didn’t even consider telling me.” She took a breath and shook her head. “I won’t tell anyone. But you better hope that Zoey stays quiet about this, because if your family find out that you got involved in this--better yet, if they find out that you got Francis suspended--then they’ll absolutely murder you. And I’m telling you now I won’t be there to wipe away your tears when that happens!”

And Alex didn’t say anything to that because she was right, she hadn’t considered telling Grace about her escapades, and her family finding out what she had done was exactly what she had been afraid of: the Zabinis, the Selwyns and the Fawleys had been friends for years. Alex’s parents were best friends with Isaac’s. If they ever found out that she had been the ringleader in getting Francis Selwyn suspended…

Grace stormed away to rejoin Martha, two lone figures of misery against the revelry of Gryffindor Tower, leaving Alex to remain standing by the drinks table wondering if she should be feeling guilty or not.

Inevitably she decided not, and made her way back to Sarah, James and Aaron, the latter two of which were making a scene bickering about whether or not Aaron had spilt his drink on James.

_Secret scoundrel_. She sort of liked the sound of that.

“I want to get drunk,” she announced.

The music may as well have been switched off. Every single Gryffindor laughing and drinking and having fun may as well have stopped what they were doing in shock, and time may as well have ceased to be, because Alexandra Morgan never drank. Of course, in reality the party raged on, the gramophone continued to blast out music, and it was just Sarah, James, and Aaron staring at her with gobsmacked faces, all thoughts of James’s stained jumper gone in an instant.

“What the fuck did Marshall _say_?” went Sarah, exchanging bewildered looks with James; a smile was unfurling on Aaron’s face.

“Zabini related?” he asked lightly; Alex nodded. “Ah. Well, lucky for you, you reckless wild child, I’ve got just the thing.”

He left for the drinks table and James drained his drink. “Alright, Morgan,” he said, wiping his mouth, “fill me in. I’m ready for all the bitchy teenage girl bullshit. What’s Marshall done now?”

Alex sighed. “Zoey overheard me and Aaron chatting earlier. She knows that I helped catch Francis and Rigby last month.”

“Oh.” James looked amused (he clearly didn’t understand the gravity of the situation) but at least Sarah was appropriately dismayed.

“Fuck, Al. Is she gonna tell your parents?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Probably.”

Sarah let out a low whistle. “Yeah, you should probably get drunk.”

Alex couldn’t stop couldn’t wringing her hands together and James noticed. “Oi, stop doing that. I’m Quidditch captain, you have to do what I say. Here--” He bent down, retrieved a bottle of firewhiskey that had been wedged under the sofa, and poured a more-than-generous amount into a Conjured glass. “Drink this. Drink all of it. Be sick. Cheat on your boyfriend. Get into a fistfight with McGonagall. Live your young, adolescent life--”

Alex accepted the glass, bemused. “Umm… okay?”

Aaron bounced back, a bright pink drink in his hand; his face fell when he saw Alex’s firewhiskey. “Where d’you get that? I made you a cocktail.”

“S’alright, I’ll take it,” said James, swiping the drink from him and downing it in one; he pulled a face. “Urgh, what is that? Cranberry?”

“Yeah. I tried to make her a Cosmopolitan,” he said defensively; Alex assured him that she would love to try the drink later and he perked up. “Well, alright. Is that firewhiskey you’ve got then? Drink up.”

She took a sip and almost spat it back out. “That’s disgusting! You lot actually like the taste of that?”

Aaron looked amused. “Honestly, Morgan, no one likes firewhiskey, it’s just a means to an end. Hang on--” He swiped something from James’s pocket and dropped it in her glass. A knut.

“Morgan got Knutted!” James crowed, with the unadulterated joy possessed only by those who are inebriated. “Oi, drink up then, you know the rules…”

“Gotta down it, Morgan,” Aaron sang gleefully.

“I’m sorry, but just because you’ve dropped an Knut in my drink doesn’t mean that I have to--”

“Just _drink it_ , Al, you pussyhole!” said Sarah, so enthusiastically that she sloshed her drink all over James, who didn’t seem to mind nearly so much when it was a pretty girl doing it.

Alex raised her eyes to the heavens. “You’re all morons, you know that right?”

And yet she did it. She took the almost overflowing glass, brought it to her lips, and got it down in one gulp. She wiped her mouth and shuddered. “God that was awful. Get me more.”

Sarah laughed and Aaron dashed off immediately in search of more alcohol.

"That's the spirit, Morgan," James applauded, raising his now-empty bottle and clinking it against her own. "Maybe we'll make a Gryffindor out of you yet."

On the other side of the room Grace and Martha sat there and glared.

* * *

 

In the dungeons there was an entirely different atmosphere to the one in the Gryffindor Tower. For the most part the Slytherins sat in their common room quietly, making vain attempts at hushed conversations, or else playing noiseless games of gobstones or wizard chess, the bitterness of their defeat rife in the air, hanging over them like the green glowing lamps. Only those who did not care for Quidditch (and they were few) carried on as normal. Perhaps

Tiberius Evermonde, however, was quietest of all. His anger at being thwarted by James Potter once again had been enough to quell his usual swagger around the Slytherin dungeons, and he had spent most of the evening sat in the corner with Nathan Hynes, pouring over the latest copy of the Daily Prophet and trading scathing remarks about the Gryffindors (and pretty much everyone else at Hogwarts too). They barely even noticed as Scorpius Malfoy came over.

"You're not still sulking, are you Tiberius?" he asked, smiling slightly as he sat down. "It's only a Quidditch match, after all."

Tiberius scowled. It was a rarity for him to be addressed in such a manner, especially by someone two years his junior. If he wasn't such a skilled Seeker, he would have had Malfoy off the team years ago.

"I don't know what the hell you were thinking, catching the Snitch when Potter had the Quaffle. You made us look like fools."

"The match was over, Evermonde," Malfoy said impatiently. "Accept it; we were never going to catch up to them, and Flynn was never going to catch the Snitch herself. Someone had to end it. Maybe if you had focused on something other than trying to embarrass James Potter then we could have won. Besides, I think you made enough of an idiot of yourself when you started throwing things around like a child."

"Shut up, Scorpius," Nathan instructed sharply. "You're not the captain. Who are you to go around defending James Potter of all people?"

Evermonde's lip curled. "It's alright, Nathan. Don't mind Scorpius here. He'll learn soon enough that families like the Potters and the Weasleys won't be worth much more than flobberworm slime in the coming months. Not once my uncle's through with them."

"What are you talking about?" Malfoy asked; he didn't look at all amused anymore.

He laughed. "Don't be obtuse, Malfoy. Your family may not be what it once was, but your father's not completely isolated himself, has he?"

At the mention of his father Scorpius's grey eyes flashed, as Evermonde had known they would. "Not at all, Tiberius," he answered coldly. "Certainly not the way your own has. How is Edmund these days…?"

Within seconds Evermonde was on his feet, his wand out and aimed directly at Malfoy's face. "Don't you ever mention my father to me again, Malfoy," he hissed, the words spitting from his mouth like the sparks from the brilliant emerald fire. "Do you understand me?"

Malfoy regarded him for a moment, and for a second Evermonde thought that the younger student was going to defy him, but then he nodded curtly.

"Wise choice," Evermonde said, lowering his wand. "You're not a foolish person, Scorpius. Don't make the same mistakes your father did." And then, to Nathan: "Come on. Let's go and find Bruce."

The two boys stood up and made for their dormitory. As they did so, they failed to notice that Scorpius Malfoy did not look at all happy.


	8. O Come, All Ye Faithful

There was a party. There was always a party. Every Christmas Eve without fail the Fawleys would go all out, spending galleons and galleons on the finest elf-made wine, roasted ox, an elegant string quartet and brilliant white marquee. The sprawling back garden was decorated with fairy lights and a gigantic Christmas tree, and the attendees--all of them wonderful, successful witches and wizards, of course--were dressed in an array of breathtakingly beautiful dress robes, lighting up the entire estate in shades of viridian, emerald and plum.

 

The Potters were always invited, but they never came. It was almost an unspoken agreement between the families. The Fawley’s would always send them an invitation (they could hardly snub such a well-known family after all) and the Potters would at least have the decency to reply with some excuse or other — it didn’t escape the Fawley’s notice, however, that the excuses got more and more outlandish with each passing year. Now they were borderline ridiculous. 

 

It was, Alex mused as she brushed past the throng of party-goers that conjugated under the marquee, rather a shame. In her opinion the presence of somebody like James Potter or Aaron Peters was exactly what the party needed. It would also mean that she would have been saved from Maya’s two hour long rant about the many flaws of her boyfriend, who had failed to turn up. Alex had only just escaped. 

 

Maybe if she played her cards right she could persuade her older brother Paul to give her some of his rum-infused butterbeer. It was a shame Aunt Jules was no longer invited to Fawley events--from what Alex could remember of her she was far more lenient than her siblings….

 

“Alexandra? Why on earth are you wandering around by yourself?”

 

Suddenly there was a vice-like grip on Alex’s wrist, and she turned to meet her mother’s shrewd gaze. 

 

“I was just--”

 

“Look, Zoey and Isaac are over there. Go and say hello.”

 

“Oh, but Mum…”

 

“It’s  _ polite _ , Alexandra.”

 

There was a trace of warning to Mrs Morgan’s words, and so Alex sighed and relented. She hadn’t seen much of Zoey since her argument with Grace. In truth she was a little scared to talk to her. Why hadn’t she told anyone about Francis Selwyn yet? Surely it couldn’t be out of kindness to Alex, Zoey made no secret of disliking her...

 

The pair stood near the fountain, both holding goblets and looking rather haughty. Zoey wore a dress similar to Alex, although hers was violet instead of burgundy, and in typical Isaac fashion he had decided to forego traditional dress robes and instead wore a plum coloured Muggle suit complete with a bowtie. 

 

“Hullo, Isaac,” she said nervously as she approached. “Zoey. How are you both?”

 

“I’d be better if your family would let us have a proper drink,” Zoey drawled, tapping her goblet with a taloned nail. 

 

Alex had seen Zoey drunk before, and for once found herself agreeing with her parents completely. 

 

“Oh, you know my family,” she said, smiling weakly. “Very old-fashioned.”

 

“Probably for the best, Zoey,” said Isaac with a smirk, “considering what happened last time. We wouldn’t want you embarrassing yourself here like you did with Finch and his friends at the end of last year.”

 

If it were anyone else Zoey would have probably scowled and made some biting remark. As it was, she just stood there and blushed; she had nursed a soft spot for Isaac for as long as Alex could remember. Ever since they were children it had been the three of them, and as they got older Henry and Grace had joined their group too. The advantage of having at least one pureblood parent--their families all knew each other. They were the ones who had friends to go to Hogwarts with, people to sit next to on the train. 

 

Alex would have never guessed that she would be the first to drift. 

 

She was just about to lamely suggest that Zoey try Paul for a drink and then quietly slip away when a booming voice interrupted. 

 

“And here’s Isaac and Alexandra! And Zoey too--don’t you two girls look lovely...”

 

And to Alex’s horror it was none other than Isaac’s grandfather Balthazar Selwyn, closely followed by her own grandfather--Brastius Fawley. Both were dressed in fancy dressrobes--midnight blue and deep crimson respectively--and held generous glasses of wine.

 

“Thank you, Sir,” Alex said weakly as Balthazar greeted her with a hug; she didn’t like the way Zoey’s eyes seemed to glitter with malice nor her sickly sweet smile. “How are you? It’s been ages...”

 

“Yes, yes, very well, thank you,” he said briskly; he was staring at Isaac with a frown. “Isaac, honestly, what in Merlin’s name is the matter with you? I don’t know what goes through your head, wearing that ridiculous Muggle suit...”

 

“Oh, that’s the fashion with young wizards nowadays, Balthazar. Us old men couldn’t possibly keep up,” Brastius said, waggling his eyebrows; he looked very boyish as he grinned at Alex. “How are you, Alexandra? You look well. Keeping your grades up, are you?”

 

“Yes, sir.” 

 

He smiled at her. “That’s my girl. My Alex is the cleverest one in the family, Balthazar. Her brother Paul was just promoted yesterday too, he’s working in Hector’s office now. Only three years out of Hogwarts and he’s already working in the Minister’s offices--we really couldn’t be more proud…”

 

“You mean Hector Evermonde?” asked Alex curiously, but she went unnoticed as her grandfather continued on.

 

“Just make sure you don’t work yourself too hard now, Alex. Have some fun too. I know what your mother’s like, but between you and I there’s nothing wrong with a bit of harmless mischief. It’s important to spend time with your friends here.”

 

He clasped his hand on her shoulder, his blue eyes twinkling, and Alex smiled back up at him. When she was younger he always used to tell her she was his favourite grandchild, and although he probably said the same to his other three, she still sort of believed it. Brastius had one of the smiles that could make you believe anything. 

 

“Oh, Alex barely spends time with us now,” said Zoey snidely. “She’s far too busy spending time with her  _ other  _ friends.”

 

Rather than take the bait, Balthazar laughed. “Ah yes, I’ve heard all about the Flynn girl. She sounds like quite the character if the rumours are to be believed.”

 

“Quite so,” Brastius agreed, smiling a bit. “Clarissa has got herself into a dither about it, of course--been giving you a lot of grief, that mother of yours, hasn’t she Alex? I’ve told her not to worry so much. Friendships like that never last.” 

 

“Exactly. I find acquainting oneself with wizards from different backgrounds helps to build character--provided it’s only temporary, of course. You don’t want them hanging around for too long, that’s when they become more of a hindrance than anything. Do you remember the trouble we had back in our day, getting rid of Wilbur Fletcher--”   

 

“Well, it’s not just Sarah,” Zoey burst out, irritated. “She’s also been running around with those animal housemates of hers. James Potter, Fred Weasley, Aaron Peters--”

 

“Animals is a bit much, Zoey,” Alex said in annoyance, but again the older men seemed more amused than vexed.

 

“Oh, yes, yes, I’ve heard quite a bit about them too,” Balthazar smiled. “Very talented boys from what Minerva tells me. Brilliant aptitude for magic…”

 

“Do you mean Professor McGongall?” Isaac said incredulously. He went ignored too. 

 

“You expect it from the Weasley and Potter boys, of course,” Brastius mused, accepting another goblet of wine from a passing waiter, “but the Peters boy’s story is quite incredible. The tragic muggleborn with barely a penny to his name, with a dead father to boot, who becomes one of the most talented wizards in his class!” 

 

“You really couldn’t make it up,” Balthazar agreed merrily. 

 

The way the pair spoke with such amusement over something so serious made Alex feel a bit sick. A quick glance at Isaac and Zoey’s shocked expressions told her that they hadn’t known about Aaron’s father either. Strange how a boy so popular kept such a huge part of his life private.

 

“How do you  _ know  _ all this?” she asked unhappily.

 

Brastius and Balthazar exchanged knowing smiles, and the latter said mysteriously, “We have our sources. The Ministry is taking quite an interest in Hogwarts students at the moment.”

 

“But why--”

 

Brastius hushed her. “See, what I’ve told Minerva time and time again, Balthazar, is that all those boys need is  _ discipline _ . Hogwarts is far too soft on them nowadays, the things that students get away with… Back in my day punishments were much more severe, not just a slap on the wrist and a mild telling off. Show those boys a  _ real  _ authority figure and they’ll fall in line, I guarantee it!”

 

Balthazar nodded approvingly. “Oh yes, quite, although Minerva’s firmly against the very idea, of course. I suppose it’s understandable, given what she must have seen take place at Hogwarts during the war, but still… it’s a shame… She’s mentioned other ones…”

 

“Yes, yes, Molly Weasley, Rosamund Hawke, Julian Ayoade...” Brastius listed. “Some of Hogwarts brightest students. But those three boys are her real favourites though. And I don’t value anyone’s opinion like I value Minerva McGonagall’s.” 

 

“I agree. Even when she doesn’t want to give it.”

 

The two wizards exchanged looks again. It was as though they were talking about a business opportunity rather than three young boys, and Alex didn’t have a clue what to make of it. 

 

Isaac meanwhile was making a big show of rolling his eyes behind his grandfather’s back and Balthazar had caught him. “None of that, Isaac. Don’t think I didn’t notice that  _ your  _ name didn’t come up during any of our chats with the school governors. Maybe you should start taking a leaf out of Potter’s book.”

 

“I don’t know why you’re so impressed by them,” Isaac said sulkily. “They got Francis suspended!”

 

Balthazar’s mouth pulled downwards into a frown. “Don’t make such unfounded accusations. You know, Brastius, the school’s been downright apathetic throughout this whole damned ordeal. My grandson, tied up and left unconscious in that castle at night, his mind  _ meddled with _ \--” 

 

“Well, it’s not like he didn’t deserve it--”

 

“ _ Quiet, Isaac.  _ Not a single thing’s been done, I tell you. I told them I wanted whoever it was expelled and all they’ll say is ‘We’re doing everything we can Mr Selwyn’. Not a single person at that school has a clue who did it…”

 

“Oh,  _ I  _ know who was behind it,” Zoey piped up and all the blood drained from Alex’s face as Zoey looked her right in the eye and gave her a wide, beaming smile. “And actually, Mr Selwyn, so does Alex here. Don’t you, Alex?”

 

All eyes snapped to Alex, who faltered. 

 

“Uh--well I…I mean…”

 

Zoey patted her arm. “Oh, you’re feeling shy. Maybe I should be the one to tell them then?”

 

“Enough, Zoey,” Balthazar barked impatiently. “If you say you know who it is then say. Who was it?”

 

Zoey flushed under the spotlight, relishing every single moment that Alex squirmed. “Well actually Sir, Isaac was right. It was James, Fred and Aaron that caught Francis and Nigel--I overheard Aaron talking about it weeks ago. It wasn’t their idea though. I’m sure this will be quite a shock to everyone, but the mastermind behind their  _ ingenious  _  little plan was  _ Alex _ here. Wasn’t it, Alex?”

 

A silence ensued in the seconds after Zoey spoke and Alex thought that she might die right on the spot. Her heart was beating awfully fast and she was sure she must have been as white as the marquee they stood under.

 

“Nonsense,” Balthazar scoffed, shaking his head. “Zoey, my dear girl, why would you say such a thing?”

 

“Oh really? Go on, Alex,” Zoey challenged, staring at her with intense malice, her lip curling. “Tell them. You’re not going to  _ deny  _ it, are you?”

 

Alex had always been a terrible liar. Even if she wasn’t, she didn’t  _ want  _ to lie just then. Months of worrying about whether Zoey would tell or not had gotten to her and despite the bombardment of grief that was undoubtedly flying her way, she was sort of relieved about it. At least she wouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around Zoey anymore.

 

“Alexandra.” Her grandfather’s voice was as deadly as she had feared and she couldn’t help but shrink back at the sound. Suddenly he wasn’t her grandfather but the Fawley patriarch--and a terrifying one at that. “Explain yourself.”

 

Steeling herself Alex lifted her chin up and choked out, “I didn’t know it would be Francis. Yes alright, it was my idea, I wanted to catch whoever was vandalising the classroom so I got James, Fred and Aaron to help me, but I swear I  _ didn’t think it would be him _ .”

 

“For God sake--Zoey, are you telling me you knew all this time and never said anything?” Isaac demanded as his grandfather gave a cry of outrage, glaring at the girl in question. “And for what, just so that you could throw Alex in it?”

 

Zoey’s smug smile was instantly replaced with dismay. “What? No, Isaac, of course not--”

 

“This is an outrage, Brastius!” Balthazar burst out furiously. “Did you put your girl up to this? Are you that jealous of my family that you’ll go to these lengths to discredit our name? We stuck together through the wars to get our families through unscathed, we helped each other hide Muggleborns in our houses, I stood by you when that damned daughter of yours was running around the country causing trouble, and now you choose to do  _ this _ ?! You should be ashamed!” 

 

“Balthazar, I had no knowledge of Alexandra’s actions and I certainly do not support anything that was done to harm your family,” Brastius said sharply. “Really, my dear friend, do you really think so little of me?”

 

Apparently Balthazar did.

 

“My grandson,” he spluttered, his cheeks ruddy with anger. “My oldest grandson…”

 

“Francis will be fine. He’s a talented wizard and he still carries your name after all. Our families will discuss this, Balthazar, but now is not the time. Later. I promise that I will do all I can to make this right.” 

 

Balthazar cast a furious look Alex’s way but accepted his friend’s words. As he strode off in anger over to where his wife stood at the emptier end if the garden, Brastius finally turned to his granddaughter. 

 

“Grandfather--”

 

“Quiet,” he barked and she fell silent immediately. “You will go upstairs to my study and you will stay there until our guests leave. If anyone stops you on the way then you will tell them that you are feeling unwell and are going upstairs to have a lie down. You will not engage with anyone else and you will not leave this house. Do you understand?” 

 

Alex nodded mutely and, with a curt nod to her friends, Brastius swept off as well.

 

She didn’t look at Isaac or Zoey as she turned on her heel and stalked up to the house. Her heart was pumping erratically; she felt a bit light-headed. She felt  _ angry _ . Because she had been right, Francis had deserved, it was his fault, and it wasn’t fair that she was to be blamed for his wrongdoings. 

 

_ Yeah, you’re a secret scoundrel alright, Morgan. _

 

She wouldn’t go to her grandfather’s study. She wouldn’t sit in there quietly and wait for her telling off whilst her family laughed and mingled and enjoyed the party. 

 

Alex pushed past the guests up towards the house. No, she wouldn’t spend another second more at that party, no matter what her grandfather had told her. 

 

She had to get out. 

 

“Alex! Alex, wait up!”

 

Someone grabbed her arm, and when she turned she saw that it was Isaac. Surprisingly he didn’t look angry--he looked  _ concerned _ .

 

“Are you alright?” he asked, and her mouth fell open.

 

“Am I  _ alright _ ?” she managed. “Isaac, do you understand what happened just now? You should  _ hate  _ me.” 

 

Isaac smiled grimly. “Oh, I understand what happened alright. Zoey’s a bitch, our grandfather’s are plotting something, and Francis may be the biggest fucking idiot on the planet. Listen, I’m not angry at you for getting Francis suspended. You didn’t make him trash the classroom and if he was stupid enough to do that then I’m glad he got caught. But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.”

 

“It’s not?” Alex stared at him feeling dafter by the second. “What could possibly matter more than--”

 

“You caught on to what they were saying, didn’t you? About the Ministry taking interest in certain students?” She nodded. “Something’s going on, Alex. I don’t know what you’ve heard, either from your family or rumours at school, but there’s stuff that you should know--especially about Henry.”

 

“Henry? Why, what about--?”

 

“Not right now, okay? We’ll talk at school--if your parents even let you go back--but we can’t do it properly here.”

 

Looking around at the many faces that she recognised from her childhood--Ministry officials, members of the Wizengamot, high-ranking journalists--she cottoned on. These days you had to be more and more careful about who could overhear you. 

 

“At school,” she agreed but couldn’t resist adding, “Isaac, why are you helping me? I mean… I’m a hypocrite, aren’t I? I  _ betrayed  _ your family...”

 

Isaac snorted. “Bit dramatic there, Alex,” he said dryly. “What, do you think  _ I _ like all this? I  _ hate  _ it. You, me, Zoey, and Henry, we’ve been in this since we were born and out of the lot of us I  _ know  _ that you’re the only one that feels the same way I do.” He stopped and sighed. “Go on, get out of here. See your mates. Grace, Martha, fucking Flynn even, whoever. I’ll cover for you long enough for you to get out.”  

 

Alex reached out and squeezed his arm, suddenly feeling immensely grateful for the Ravenclaw. “Thanks, Isaac. I really am sorry.” He nodded and she headed through the garden towards the french doors leading to the fireplace in the lounge.

 

She knew exactly where she was going.

 

* * *

 

Festivities had hit a high in the Flynn household, a far cry from the soiree happening at the Fawley’s 200 miles away; instead of elf-made wine there was cheap beer, the string quartet was swapped for an old sputtering radio and rather than the uppercrust of witches and wizards there were… well, more Flynns. 

 

Sarah’s older brother Mike was there and her dad Stanley--he sat on the sofa with Toby Gump’s dad, drinking and shouting and guffawing with laughter whilst her mum sat by herself in the bedroom. There were numerous cousins and uncles and aunts, as well as friends of said cousins and and uncles and aunts. The lowlifes of Wizarding society, as Alex’s family would have been likely to put it. There were so many of them, in fact, that the Flynn’s tiny bungalow couldn’t contain them all and so they spilled out into the back garden and the street out front like rubbish overflowing from a bin. 

 

Normally Sarah spent family gatherings with Chris, lurking in the back garden in a bid to avoid detection. This year she sat by herself in the corner whilst Chris chatted to Mike and some of his mates.  

 

_ What the fuck was he doing?  _

 

“What the fuck is he doing?”

 

Sarah started as Tom joined her on the floor, parroting her thoughts. He was staring at Chris and Mike with an ugly look on his face. Sarah and Tom had never been particularly close, although Chris had tried his best to fix that over the years, but there was one thing at least that united them: a deep loathing of their older brother Mike.

 

“They’ve  _ never  _ gotten on,” he stated. “Never. Chris fucking hates him!” 

 

“We all hate him,” Sarah said impatiently. “They’ve just been doing a lot of work together lately, that’s all.”

 

“Work?”

 

“Yeah. Y’know--they’ve both been doing some stuff with the NF.”

 

“You mean with Dung?”

 

“Mmm hmm.” 

 

Tom contemplated that for a moment and then: “Well then I hate Dung too.”

 

“That’s weird, you usually get on with everyone.”

 

She got a glare for that.

 

“Hey, Sarah.” Chris appeared, crouching down in front of them. “I’m gonna go get some more beers with Mike. You okay here?”

 

He was so earnest that Sarah felt all her irritation fade away; it was what she liked best about her brother--that kind of genuineness was impossible to fake. 

 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

 

Chris frowned. “You sure?” 

 

“ _ Yes _ . Go with Mike, me and Tom are okay.”

 

“Alright.” He got up, punched Tom lightly on the shoulder and went over to Mike. The two disappeared through the front door.

 

“Dickhead,” Tom muttered.

 

She shoved one of the beer cans at him. “Tom, drink this and shut up.”

 

He did for a while and he actually stayed quiet too. But then the can emptied and Sarah’s company had long since started to bore him and so Tom left their inconspicuous corner in search of a more interesting source of entertainment. 

 

It was always a mistake to leave the corner. 

 

“Now you see here,” Stanley was saying loudly to his friend Jack Gump, “my boy Chris, he’s been good as anythin’ this month. No detentions, no letters home, nothin’. He’ll do well, he will. Smart boy y’see, Dung was telling me the other day how useful he is to have around fer jobs…”

 

And then Tom caught his eye, hanging around the crate of beers near the sofa. His eyes narrowed.

 

“And what about you boy, eh?!” Tom jolted, midway through picking up a bottle. He let it go and straightened up slowly, the way one would act around a startled deer. 

 

“What the fuck have you been doin’, huh? Twelve letters I got home about you last month! Skippin, mouthin’ off, gettin’ fights… You think shit like that’s gonna get you anywhere, huh?”

 

Tom backed away as his father stood up, beer bottle in hand, and suddenly, as he took a swaggering step towards his youngest son, Sarah had a decision to make.

 

It wouldn’t have gotten this far without Chris. He was the peace-maker, he could always deescalate a situation with just a few choice words. But Chris wasn’t there and it  _ had  _ gotten this far, and so she was left with a choice that she didn’t particularly want to make.

 

Intervene or stay out of it? Let Tom take the hit or get punched herself? She had  _ told  _ him to keep out the way... 

 

Fuck it. It was what Chris would do. 

 

“Tom!” She shoved past her cousin Jason, took Tom’s wrist and pushed him towards the backdoor, hissing in his ear: “Go on, get of here idiot, stay out the way--”

 

Behind their dad went, “The hell d’you think you’re doing, girl? I was talkin’ to him!” and Tom backed into the corner as Sarah turned around with a scowl. 

 

“Oh yeah sorry for interrupting the behaviour lessons. See, I forgot for a moment what a stellar Hogwarts career  _ you  _ had, Dad.”

 

And there it was. Too late to back out now. 

 

“The fuck’d you say to me?” Stanley growled. It had suddenly gotten a lot quieter in the house; the music still blared but all talking ceased as the Flynn clan tensed in eager anticipation of a fight. It was tradition, after all.

 

“Now you see boys,” Stanley said, and he grabbed onto Sarah’s arm, so tightly she could already  _ feel  _ the bruises forming, and yanked her over in front of his friends. “Tom may be a useless sack of shit but Sarah here… Sarah has  _ graces. _ ”

 

She tried to struggle away but Stanley’s grip was too strong and so all she could do was stand there and try to ignore the seeds of panic growing in her stomach. Her dad’s friends were all eyeing her up and jeering, and fucking hell  _ where  _ was Chris?

 

“Think you’re too good for this family, do ya, Sarah? Think you’re better than my boys?”

 

“Dad, come on, I never said that--”

 

“I pay for her fucking food, her education, the clothes on her Goddamn fucking  _ back _ and she comes in here swanning around like she’s better than us cause she  _ studies…” _

 

“Dad, please, let go…”

 

_ Smack. _

 

It certainly wasn’t the hardest she’d ever been hit but it was enough to knock her balance, and she crashed to the floor. 

 

“Arghh!”

 

She cried out in pain as she landed on her wrist and realised it was probably broken. There was some drunken laughter from her cousins and even a cheer from one of Mike’s nastier mates.

 

“Little piece of shit,” Stanley muttered to himself, standing over Sarah with a distorted grimace. “You think you’re so clever now girl?!” 

 

He crouched down and held his wand to her shoulder until the white cotton singed away and skin met scolding tip. Chris was gone which meant there was no-one there to intervene and she was screaming and kicking her father away so that he stumbled back with a cry of outrage.

 

“Dad, stop!” yelled Tom.

 

As Sarah staggered to her feet and started for the door a flash of blinding white light shot passed and grazed her arm. Stanley Flynn made no attempt to stop his daughter as she ran through the front door, but rather snorted with disdain and shook his head, heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Then he picked up his firewhiskey, took his seat by the window and took a long sip, not noticing as his shaking son sank down to the floor and chatter filled the room once more.

 

“Hey, Tom, pass me that cig, would you?”

 

* * *

 

Sarah didn’t stop running until she got to the park. It was deserted--it was Christmas Eve after all--and she sat on the bench outside the playground and started to clean herself up as best she could with her wand arm injured. 

 

Chadwell Heath was a nice place. Most of it anyway. A half-Muggle half-magical commuter town on the outskirts of London, it was the sort of town that the middle class of Britain flocked to, with a big park, bustling high street and about a hundred hairdressers and pubs, the kind of place that made a family like Sarah’s stick out like a sore thumb. Most importantly, it was the kind of place you definitely wouldn’t expect teenagers to be wandering around alone on Christmas Eve.

 

Which is why it caught Sarah’s attention when a lone girl stumbled out of The White Stag opposite and wandered towards the park where Sarah sat. 

 

She looked familiar to Sarah, with long brown hair and a petite figure, but it wasn’t until she was just a few feet away that she realised who it was. 

 

“ _ Al _ ?!” she went incredulously. “What are you  _ doing  _ here?” 

 

Alex looked ethereal in the moonlight. She wore a pretty dark red dress and her hair was styled in soft waves framing her pristine, flawless face; never had Sarah realised the differences in their lives so acutely. As Alex took in Sarah’s appearance--the tears in her jeans, the bruises already blossoming on her face, the unnatural angle of her wrist--her eyes widened in horror.

 

“Oh,  _ Sarah _ . What happened to you?”

 

“Nothing,” said Sarah defensively, refusing to meet her gaze. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. Look, Al, you gotta get out of here, my family are around and I’ve got no idea where Mike is right now--”

 

“Merlin, look at you. You must be  _ freezing _ .” 

 

She was. In her haste Sarah hadn’t had time to grab a cloak or jacket or even her wand and so stood there in the freezing winds wearing just jeans and a cotton top. 

 

“Well I don’t see your cloak,” she pointed out and Alex rolled her eyes. “Nice dress. Why do I get the feeling we’ve had very different nights tonight?”

 

“Probably similar levels of enjoyment,” Alex said. Her eyes darted to Sarah’s wrist again. “Merlin, Sarah, at least let me fix it.”

 

She consented to this and held out her arm, bracing herself for the inevitable burst of pain that she’d come to associate with  _ Episkey.  _ She suddenly felt very much like crying. 

 

_ Crack! _

 

“Ow! Fucking hell, Al, that was harder than usual--” 

 

Alex stuffed wand back in her dress. “I’ll take that as a thank you. You’re really not going to tell me what happened?”

 

“Fine. My dad hit me. Is that what you wanted to hear? What about  _ you  _ anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be at some fancy Fawley affair?” 

 

If Alex caught on to the mocking tone she didn’t say anything. She sighed and said, “Zoey told my grandfather about the Francis Selwyn thing. His grandfather was there as well actually. It didn’t go down well.”

 

Sarah frowned. “Do they know you’re here?”

 

Alex snorted. “What do you think? Grandfather told me to go to his study and wait there patiently to be told that I’m a disgrace to the family or something like--” She stopped suddenly, looking embarrassed. Sarah was still cradling her wrist. “God, forget about that. It doesn’t matter. Why did your dad hit you?”

 

Sarah definitely hadn’t planned on telling anyone what had happened at home--no-one except Chris anyway--but Alex was looking at her with those big blue dog eyes and she’d run away from the Goddamn Fawley’s to see _her_ and not Grace, and so suddenly she found herself sitting back on the bench with Alex, who mercifully cast a heating charm over both of them, and telling her absolutely everything. 

 

“And so I pegged it here,” she finished with a wry smile, stretching her legs out in front of her. “Really adds to the spirit of Christmas, huh?”

 

Alex wilted. “Oh Sarah. I’m  _ so  _ sorry.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. It’s not like it’s your fault.” Sarah watched as the blood from her arm dripped slowly onto the snow, scarlett red tarnishing immaculate white. How had it ever come to this?

 

“Come on,” she said at last, standing up and shaking the snow from her hair like a dog. “Let’s get away from here. I wasn’t joking about Mike, y’know.”

 

“And go where?”

 

Sarah stepped out onto the street. “I don’t know about you,” she said, pulling out her wand and holding it out, “but I could do with a firewhiskey.” 

 

* * *

 

Christmas Eve at the Burrow was a tradition for the Potter-Weasley clan. Whilst Christmas Day itself saw the various branches of the Weasley family tree split up--the Potters and Weasley-Grangers would spend it together of course, Uncle Charlie nearly always celebrated with the Weasley-Delacours, Uncle Percy and his family would usually remain at the Burrow with Arthur and Molly whilst the Weasley-Johnsons liked to alternate each year and float around--Christmas Eve was  _ always  _ spent in each others company.

 

That year was very much the same: Lily, Hugo, Louis and Roxanne had gathered in the corner for a Gobstones tournament having even managed to persuade Rose and Albus to play and on the other side of the room Uncle Bill, Grandad Arthur and James’s father talked politics. Molly tried and failed to listen in on their conversation but was thwarted by Dominique’s incessant pestering, Teddy and Victoire were couplely, Uncle Percy was nearly falling asleep by the armchair and Aunt Angelina was drinking Uncles George, Charlie and Ron under the table whilst his mother cheered on. 

 

As for Fred and James… well, the former was sitting outside in the merciless winter snow whilst the other resided inside, equally alone, trying to ignore the sound of his Nana crying whilst Aunts Hermione, Fleur and Audrey comforted her as she reminisced and leafed through old photo albums. Another Christmas Eve tradition. 

 

They used to be right at the forefront of family gatherings, James and Fred. The stars of the show, delighting their younger relatives and amusing the older ones with their antics. James couldn’t remember when that had stopped. Two or three years ago? He couldn’t pinpoint a reason either, not really. He supposed it didn’t matter. Now they saved the show for school, winning the reverence of their classmates rather than their relatives. 

 

Teddy arrived, wearing a Christmas hat and carrying two beers. He gave one to James and sat down. 

 

“Don’t tell anyone. I’d imagine your nan murdering me for fueling your reckless drinking would put a bit of a damper on Christmas Day.”

 

James grinned as he accepted the beer. “Cheers, Teddy. Though if Nana was gonna murder you it would’ve been when you started molesting her first grandchild.”

 

“True. Why are you sitting alone anyway? Not in angst mode again, are you?”

 

“I’m never in  _ angst  _ mode,” James said with dignity, to which Teddy snorted.

 

“Bullshit. You mean you never  _ used  _ to be in angst mode. I can’t see Fred anywhere either so I assume  _ he’s  _ off somewhere being angsty too. Moping about that girl he likes again I reckon.”

 

James rolled his eyes. Teddy was looking at him impatiently and he realised he was still expecting an answer to his question. 

 

“Um… I’m sitting alone for the peace and quiet?”

 

“You hate the quiet. Try again.”

 

James shifted. “Alright, I’m sulking ‘cause Dad wouldn’t let Aaron come over. What does it matter, Ted?”

 

Teddy took a long sip of beer, pondering his next words carefully.

 

“You’re parents are worried about you,” he said bluntly. “And you know what, so am I. You used to  _ love  _ family gatherings, you’d never shut up. Now all you do is sit alone and refuse to talk to anyone except Fred. It’s not normal James, you’re not  _ like  _ this. What’s going on with you?”

 

James gripped onto the beer bottle tightly. He really did  _ not  _ want to have this conversation. “Kids change as they get older, Ted. It’s not a big deal.”

 

“You’re still the same at school,” Teddy pointed out. “Albus writes to me too, you know. I know the shit you get up to there.” 

 

“Your Hogwarts career wasn’t so pristine.”

 

“I’m not having a go because you’re pulling pranks. I’m just wondering why you’re being such a moody sod at home when from what I hear you’re still a cocky dickhead at school. Call me mental but I never thought I’d actually miss you and Fred being loud, obnoxious idiots together--or at least, you’re obnoxious. Freddie’s just loud.”

 

It was such a Teddy way of phrasing it, putting together so bluntly what his parents had spent months skating awkwardly around, the jokes masking genuine concern. 

 

James didn’t say anything but couldn’t help his eyes flickering across the room towards his father. Ever the Auror, Teddy caught on immediately, and the frowned melted into a weary sort of realisation. He sighed. 

 

“Look, I get it, James,” he said gently. “I’ve been out with your dad and I know how it is. Reporters, people taking photos and asking for autographs; it must be tough having the whole world watching you grow up. Fuck, that kind of pressure would be hard for anyone. But what you’ve got to remember is that  _ he can’t help who he is _ . He doesn’t like it any more than you do. And he loves you, James, he fucking does, and having a dad that loves you… that’s really fucking something.”

 

He had a point.

 

James looked at Teddy and wondered once again what had happened to the blue-haired rebel who used to lurk in corners smoking cigarettes and sneak out of Andromeda’s house on Friday nights to see concerts in London.

 

“How’s Vic doing?” James asked. Teddy smiled.

 

“Can you keep a secret?” he said. “We’re engaged. We’re gonna tell our families on Boxing Day. I’ll tell Harry and Gran when I’m at yours for dinner and she’ll tell her parents at Shell Cottage. Reckon they’ll be excited?”

 

“Yeah, I… wow. Congratulations.” He genuinely didn’t know what to say. He knew that Teddy had a good six years on him but it still felt like he was far too young to be getting married--unless... “Wait, she’s not pregnant, is she?”

 

Teddy couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “No, James, I am not marrying your cousin because I  _ knocked her up _ .”

 

“Oh. Good. When did this happen?”

 

“Yesterday. I asked her yesterday. I know we’re still pretty young but…” The beaming smile took over again, “when you know, you know. Do you know what I mean?” 

 

No, James didn’t know. There’d never been anyone that he’d felt like  _ that  _ about, not even Maya, and--if he was completely honest--the only future he held any interest in consisted of Fred, Aaron and himself being three mad old bachelors together. 

 

Not exactly the epitome of romance.

 

But still, he had never seen Teddy look so happy, with a smile so wide James thought his face might split, and so he found it easy to be sincere when he said, “Congratulations mate. Seriously-- you two will have a great old life, I reckon.” 

 

“Thanks, Jim.” He smiled affectionately at his almost-pretty-much-brother and rumpled his hair like he used to years ago. “Listen, I left Vic with Percy so I’d better go rescue her before she calls off the wedding. Think about what I said, okay? I’m always around to talk. Your dad’s a good bloke and he loves you. Go easy on him.”

 

“I know. I will.” 

 

As Teddy went to join Victoire and Uncle Percy by the fireplace James stood up too. His mother had now joined the squad of aunts trying to comfort Nana Molly and he was rather anxious to disappear before he was roped into doing the same. He left the living room in pursuit of Fred.

 

Luckily the search didn’t take long. 

 

“Alright, mate?” he said, shuddering as he stepped out into the cold night air. Fred was sat on a bench under the kitchen window, tossing pebbles at the snowman Lily and Hugo had conned Albus into helping them make earlier; wrapped up in a Gryffindor hat, scarf and gloves, Weasley jumper and cloak, he  _ still  _ looked freezing.

 

“Hey,” he muttered as James shovelled snow off the bench and sat down next to him. “Nana still crying?”

 

“Oh yeah,” he said wearily. “She’s got the photo albums out. Dunno why they still let her do that at this point, it only upsets her. What’re you doing out here?”

 

“S’better I stay out of her way for a bit. You know I only remind her of him.” 

 

James nodded and the two boys shared a look that silently acknowledged the burden of being walking memorials. 

 

“I wonder what Aaron’s doing,” Fred said at length.

 

James exhaled angrily. “Probably sitting at home alone whilst his brothers are out on the piss.” 

 

“One of them might’ve taken him out...?”

 

“They wouldn’t think to do that.”

 

Fred agreed. It was only a matter of time before one of them suggested a jailbreak for their best mate, and James was just about to do it himself when there was suddenly a flurry of voices wafting outside from the kitchen--he had left the back door ajar on his way out. 

 

Fred glanced at him and James put his finger to his lips.

 

“...have to say  _ something _ , they all know something’s up. Did you know there was another riot in Cardiff last night? Two witches dead and about twenty in hospital. Molly’s been badgering me for information all night about it, Percy.”

 

That was Uncle Charlie’s voice--clearly the drinking group had been broken up by one of the more responsible adults.

 

“She gets it from her mother,” sighed Uncle Percy. There was a loud clink of glass and James realised that they’d come to get more bottles from the liquor cupboard. “Stubborn as a goblin, my Molly. Audrey and I have discussed it but we don’t think it’s time to tell the kids anything just yet, there’s too much uncertainty…”

 

“They’ve got to find out sometime,” cut in George impatiently. “They’ve got questions and if we’re right then the Ministry are going to bring this thing right into Hogwarts--”

 

“And we all know how well that went last time,” Uncle Ron chimed in grimly. 

 

Whilst James couldn’t see his face he could hear Uncle Percy huffing. 

 

“We don’t know for certain what Evermonde’s plans are,” he insisted. “There’s no point in saying anything until we know for sure, it’ll just cause unnecessary worry! This is pure speculation, there’s no  _ proof _ \--”

 

“Aw, come off it, Perce,” scoffed George. “What does Harry say about it Ron?”

 

“Well he’s convinced that Evermonde’s got something up his sleeve. Apparently Clements and Birch are sneaking around more than usual, and breaking the Statue of Secrecy’s a big thing--Britain’s not exactly a low-profile country. It’ll affect the entire world, other magical governments are gonna have something to say about it too.”

 

There was a murmur of general agreement.

 

“Yeah, that makes sense. You-Know-Who had horcruxes after all, Evermonde must have something too!”

 

“C’mon, George, Hector Evermonde may be a wanker but he’s no Dark Wizard…”

 

The voices faded as the group moved back to the living room and James and Fred glanced at each other.

 

“Sounds bad,” Fred said. “D’you think…?”

 

“A lot of stuff’s being hushed up,” James said, frowning. “The riot’s, the unemployment, the fucking Ministry… Something’s happening.  _ Hogwarts _ … What’s coming to Hogwarts, what’re they changing?” Fred shrugged. “Do you know who Clements and Birch are?” 

 

“Never heard of them. Molly might know though, she’s been doing some snooping around.” 

 

James stared at the deformed snowman and realised he’d had enough. He couldn’t be there any longer, not that night. 

 

“Let’s go,” James said to Fred, standing up. “I need to get out of here.”

 

Fred looked startled. “Go where?”

 

“Anywhere. Leaky Cauldron. Three Broomsticks. Wherever there’s alcohol. We’ll get Aaron on the way.”

 

“I dunno, James—we can’t just leave on Christmas Eve without telling anyone…”

 

“Sure we can--you saw them all in there, right?” James gestured towards the house. “I give them two hours before they even notice we’re gone. Three if they get the mead out. We’ll be fine. Even if they do, they know we’re alright.”  

 

James could tell his cousin was sorely tempted and so he added for good measure, “After all, we can’t leave Aaron alone on Christmas Eve, can we? It’s not his fault Dad’s arsey with me at the moment.” 

 

Fred sighed, knowing defeat was inevitable. “Give me two minutes.”

 

* * *

 

It was an aching sort of loneliness. That’s the only way Aaron could describe it. His mother was working at the hospital late, his Uncle Dean had gone away for Christmas with his girlfriend, his brothers were out God knew where, and there Aaron sat by himself in a dingy little flat, drinking a can of cheap, warm beer. 

 

Christmas could go fuck itself. 

 

It was at Christmas he missed him the most, after all. Not that he’d ever tell anybody that. A dead father’s not exactly something you can bring into a conversation lightly. And it had been nine years—people tended to get impatient when you mourned for any longer than one. 

 

And so Aaron continued to sit there, swigging his beer and wallowing in self-pity. Outside he could hear the faint chime of church bells and the sound of drunken revellers from the local pub whilst above his neighbours continued to scream at each other, and he thought to himself surely,  _ surely _ this had to be rock bottom?

 

And then there was a knock on the door. Aaron started, a bit confused. He didn’t live in the type of neighbourhood where carollers would come to call and everyone else he knew had plans. He planned on just ignoring it, when someone banged on the door again, this time with more force. So he put down the beer, stood up and trudged over to the front door, ready to tell whoever it was to fuck off.

 

Imagine his delight when the door swung open to reveal his two best friends, followed by those four magical words:

 

“Fancy a pint, mate?”

 

* * *

 

“I don’t know about this,” Alex said nervously, fiddling with the hem of her dress. “This is wrong.”

 

“But it just feels so gosh darn right,” Sarah said solemnly, before cracking up. “C’mon, Al, it’s only the Leaky Cauldron. What could go wrong?”

 

“Oh, don’t say that,” moaned Alex, but she allowed herself to be pulled into the pub by Sarah anyway, a surprisingly welcome escape from the bitter cold outside.

 

The Leaky Cauldron on Christmas Eve wasn’t actually the depressing place that Alex had imagined it to be. The place was absolutely rammed for a start, from families squashed together around the rickety wooden tables to groups of old wizards drunkenly singing God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs. Dark green wreaths and tinsel ran across the bar and snaked around the wooden beams throughout the pub, and right in the center of it all stood a magnificent Christmas tree decorated with baubles and candles and fluttering fairies. There were a few familiar faces from Hogwarts but not many and to Alex’s relief she didn’t recognise a single person that would relay her location to her parents.

 

“A damn sight better than my place, that’s for sure,” Sarah said happily, a beaming smile on her face as she took in their surroundings. “ 

 

Alex was inclined to agree and was just about to voice it when someone else beat her to it.

 

“Well, well, well. Didn’t think we’d be seeing  _ you  _ in here tonight.” 

 

And of course it would be them, she mused as they turned and saw three grinning boys. These days it  _ always  _ seemed to be them. 

 

It was Aaron who had spoken, and now James piped up, smirking, “Oh, I’m not at all surprised to find Morgan here. Whenever the world turns its back, she’s in some dodgy pub knocking back Firewhiskey.”

 

“The Leaky Cauldron’s hardly dodgy, James,” Alex pointed out. “Where did you lot come from anyway?”

 

“We just got here behind you.”

 

“But I didn’t see you three on the Knight Bus,” she frowned.

 

“That’s because we didn’t get the Knight Bus,” said Fred.

 

“Then how did you get here?”

 

“Apparated.”

 

“Oh please,” said Alex, rolling her eyes. “Seriously. How did you  _ really  _ get here?”

 

“Um… Alex?” Sarah said, grinning slightly. “Try not to explode in a ball of self-righteousness, but I think they  _ are  _ being serious.”

 

“ _ Don’t say it _ ,” Fred warned James, who had just been about to speak. He closed his mouth smirking.

 

“No.” Alex rounded on the boys, somewhat indignant. “No, that is  _ not  _ fair! You  _ can’t  _ all be able to Apparate already!” ”

 

“Ri-ight.” Aaron was looking at her with mild concern. “And why not exactly?”

 

“Because you—well, you don’t  _ do _ anything! You’re lazy and you goof off all the time and you’re  _ always _ in detention for not doing homework! You don’t deserve to be able to Apparate before anyone else in our year!”

 

Aaron frowned, though the twinkle in his eye gave him away. “ _ That’s  _ not a very Christmassy attitude, Morgan.”

 

“Someone get some alcohol inside her,” Sarah chipped in.

 

“Flynn,” James went suddenly in a strange voice, and he was staring at her in dismay. “What the  _ fuck  _ happened to you? Your arm--”

 

Sarah ducked her head down instinctively. “It’s fine, Potter. Accident.”

 

He snorted. “Yeah fucking right. C’mon. Who did it? Don’t tell me you were wondering around Knockturn Alley alone or something--”

 

“ _ No _ . And even if I had been, I’m pretty sure that I’ve had enough experience dealing with  _ Knockturn Alley _ .” She looked almost pleadingly at him. “Jesus, just leave it, okay?” 

 

“You’re joking, right?” James went, pointing at her top. “Sarah, you’ve got  _ blood  _ all over you, what the hell--”

 

“Please, you can barely see it,” Sarah scoffed despite resembling someone who had just run into a herd of centaurs. Everyone stared at her. “Oh shut up. Who’s getting the first round?”

 

James rolled his eyes and huffed. “This isn’t over, alright, Flynn? Now what d’you want? Firewhiskey? You too, Morgan--and don’t you look at me like that, it’s Christmas Eve and you’re in a pub with us instead of your family. Clearly your home situation is as tragic as the rest of ours, and so I can only assume you’re in dire need of alcohol.”

 

“Fair enough,” Alex allowed, and she even assisted James in battling the crowd at the bar whilst the other three went in search of a table.

 

“Will he get served?” Sarah wondered, looking over at James. “Not all of us are seventeen.”

 

“Nah, he’ll be alright,” said Aaron. “We know the owner. Old Danny loves us.”

 

“Do you three know  _ everyone _ ?”

 

They nabbed a table right by the Christmas tree, in between a family of four and a gaggle of drunk forty-something witches. It was a bit of a squeeze for five but better than nothing at all, and the middle-aged witches ogled Aaron shamelessly as Fred scrambled around trying to scavenge two more chairs so that everyone had a seat.

 

If anyone had told the Sarah of two years ago that she would ever be spending Christmas Eve at the Leaky Cauldron with Alex Morgan, James Potter, Fred Weasley and Aaron Peters she would have laughed in their face. And yet now it seemed oddly natural. 

 

“ _ This _ ,” Aaron said, positively lounging in his wooden chair as he gazed around the pub approvingly, “is definitely better than being in Peckham.”

 

“To be fair,  _ anything’s  _ better than being in Peckham,” Sarah said, and Fred laughed as Aaron tried to kick her and missed.

 

“You know, I’m not sure I like your tone. Shouldn’t your better half be around to keep you in line?”

 

Fred hit him. “Idiot. You say that about couples, not siblings!”

 

“Oh. Gross.” Aaron pulled a face and turned back to Sarah. “Seriously though, Flynn. Where’s the brother?”

 

She frowned. “What d’you mean? Chris is at home.”

 

“Huh. You mean you ditched him to come here?”

 

“Well... yeah.” Suddenly she felt incredibly guilty. She and Chris had never spent Christmas apart. “What are you lot doing here anyway? Why aren’t you at home?” 

 

Aaron, who had been kicking his legs onto one of the spare chairs, paused and looked at Fred, who said quickly, “Boredom.”

 

“What he said,” Aaron nodded.  

 

Sarah suspected there was more to the story, but figured that if she wasn’t spilling what had happened to her then they were entitled to the same. Either way, chances for further questions were vanquished at the arrival of James, accompanied by Alex and a tray laden with drinks.

 

“Now,” he said with a flourish, setting the tray onto the table. “ _ Shots _ .”

 

* * *

 

Fred was in a daze. He couldn’t believe his own bloody luck; that, out of all the girls that he could have run into at the Leaky Cauldron on Christmas Eve, of all the fucking witches in the world, it was Alexandra Clarissa Morgan that he should see. And of course he was with Vera, he  _ should  _ be thinking of Vera, who was nice and pretty and sweet and essentially the whole package. But then there was  _ Alexandra Clarissa Morgan  _ who was just… well, just Goddamn perfect. 

 

She looked absolutely lovely. 

 

“Alright, let’s do something fun,” Aaron demanded, practically bouncing in his chair. “Flynn, go over and ask for a selfie with that hag over there.”

 

Sarah craned her neck to have a look at the being in question. “You know I would, but I actually  _ don’t  _ have a death wish.”

 

“Spoil sport.” 

 

“And why don’t  _ you  _ do it?”

 

Aaron said with dignity, “My face is  _ far  _ too pretty to risk.”

 

“Of  _ course _ …”

 

“Oh my God,” said Fred suddenly, looking up over the sea of heads. “Is that Professor Drumgold and Artie? They’re on a  _ date _ , what the fuck--”

 

“Professor Artemis?”

 

“ _ No _ , surely not…”

 

“I can’t see,” Sarah complained. “Potter, move your fat head--”

 

“Stop  _ flirting  _ with me Flynn, I’m taken…”

 

“Oh, this is excellent!” Aaron said happily, practically bouncing with excitement. “I can’t wait to mock Artie for this when we get back.”

 

Sarah frowned. “Oi, you don’t even  _ take  _ Muggle Studies, Peters!”

 

“Tough shit, Flynn, I saw them first--”

 

“Oh sorry, I forgot we were fucking twelve--”

 

And Fred sat there smiling goofily whilst they all bickered, thinking that he couldn’t remember the last time that he had felt so unashamedly happy. He was sitting in a pub with his friends on Christmas Eve, the girl he’d had a crush on for five years was there and hadn’t rolled her eyes at him  _ once _ , and a whole evening of drinking lay ahead of them. There didn’t seem to be a whole lot more to the world just then.  

 

“C’mon,” he said loudly so that all arguing ceased. “It’s Christmas Eve and we’re at the pub--let’s get fucked.”

 

“Thought you were the sensible one?” Sarah said with amusement whilst James and Aaron started banging on the table and shouting their agreement.

 

“Great idea, Weasley--”

 

“Drinking game--”

 

“We are  _ not  _ playing a drinking game,” Alex countered, shuddering at the memory of the last drinking game she’d played with that particular group of people. 

 

James smacked his palm against his forehead. “Shit, I forgot. Your parents named you Alex Buzzkill Morgan.” 

 

“Ah, leave poor Al alone,” Sarah said, leaning forward and punching her shoulder lightly. “She’s gone renegade for the night and should be rewarded.” 

 

“I got her firewhiskey, didn’t I?” James peered at her, something dawning on his face. “Hang on, shouldn’t you be at that party your lot’s having? What happened?”

 

“They’re angry at me,” Alex revealed, frowning. “Zoey told my grandfather about Rigby and Selwyn so now I’m probably in the most trouble I’ll ever be in. They weren’t happy with me anyway. Maya told them about me getting drunk with all of you at that party last month.” 

 

“So let me get this straight,” Aaron said, looking infinitely amused, “your family are mad at you for drinking and spending time with us four so your solution is to… drink and spend time with us four?”

 

Alex blushed. “Um… yes?” 

 

“God, I love you, Morgan,” laughed James. “Were you always like this? Maya’s never told me  _ these  _ stories about you.”

 

“Well, they’ve been more of a recent occurrence and Maya and I don’t exactly get on--and hey, actually, Potter, I’m angry with you! I had to sit and listen to Maya complain about you for  _ two hours _ because you didn’t come today! She asked me to have a  _ word  _ with you about being a better boyfriend!” 

 

She folded her arms, irritation marring her pretty face, and James laughed again.

 

“Oh yeah. I promised her ages ago that I’d go then owled her this morning bailing. In my defence, it’s sort of a Potter family tradition to  _ not  _ go to those things.” He grimaced. “I s’pose I’m about to get a famous Morgan Telling Off, then?” 

 

She thought for a moment then sighed. “It was an awful party,” she said honestly. “I wouldn’t have gone either.”

 

Fred got the next round in, then Alex, and then somehow it was James again as both Sarah and Aaron seemed to have mastered the art of disappearing for a cigarette whenever there were empty glasses around, until eventually they were so many rounds in nobody had a clue whose turn it was anymore. 

 

“You know who I wish was here?” Aaron said idly to James about seven firewhiskeys in. 

 

“I swear, Peters, if you say my mum…”

 

He grinned. “Jim, as much as I think your mum’s fit, I didn’t mean her. Nah, I was talking about your Uncle Charlie. Now  _ that’ _ s a bloke that knows how to live. Dragons and booze and not a single witch in sight telling him what to do.”

 

“Well, you wouldn’t want him here tonight,” Fred went. “He was talking politics with Dad and our uncles when we left.”

 

“Oh yeah? They let anything slip?” Aaron asked with interest and James and Fred exchanged looks, wondering how much to reveal. 

 

“Oh, spill,” said Sarah immediately, leaning forward. “C’mon, what do you two rats know?”

 

“We may have overheard some interesting stuff earlier tonight,” James admitted and the pair proceeded to tell Aaron, Sarah and Alex everything that they had overheard earlier that evening. 

 

Once they were finished Aaron sat back, exhaling. “Fuck. Hogwarts? What’s Evermonde got to do with Hogwarts?” 

 

“That’s what I was wondering,” said James. “I mean, if he’s campaigning to be Minister then what good will Hogwarts do him? It’s the Wizengamot he should be focusing on, they’re the ones who decide.” 

 

“Public support goes a long way though,” Alex pointed. “Cornelius Fudge got fired due to public demand--”

 

“Yeah, but that was during a war--”

 

“I dunno,” said Fred fairly. “She’s got a point. No one’s that happy with Shacklebolt right now. He’s not been doing a good job of stopping the riots, and it’s getting any easier to get a job out of Hogwarts.”

 

“Yeah, fair point but it’s still not a vote,” said James in frustration. “The Wizengamot listens to public opinion to an extent but there’s not that much leverage, it’s still  _ their  _ decision. And besides, if he’s seriously planning on getting rid of the Statute he’s gonna have a lot more on his mind than a bunch of teenagers. I mean, other countries aren’t just gonna sit back and let us just be like ‘actually nah this secrecy thing isn’t for us’. There must be about a hundred countries involved, the whole fucking world’s talking about it!” 

 

“Yeah, I heard about that,” Alex said, nodding. “There was a piece about it in the Prophet the other day. A MACUSA spokesperson was saying that if Britain breaks to Statute of Secrecy then they’ll have grounds to declare war.” She hesitated. “There’s something else as well. When I was talking to my grandfather earlier he sort of mentioned you three. He said that the Ministry have got their eye on you--that all you need is discipline or something…”

 

The three boys exchanged surprised glances. 

 

“Us?” Aaron said incredulously, echoing Fred’s thoughts. “What would Evermonde want with us? We’re barely seventeen.”

 

“It was sort of like you were being scouted,” Alex told them, her face all scrunched up.  “I can’t remember it all, I was all worked up about Zoey so I wasn’t completely paying attention… But they mentioned other students too--Julian Ayoade, Molly Weasley, Rosamund Hawke…” 

 

“They mentioned Molly? They’re after smart students,” Aaron said, looking at Fred and James. “What, so he’s recruiting then? Gaining support? But for  _ what _ ? It all comes back to the same thing, he doesn’t  _ need  _ Hogwarts students to become Minister. What could he want with us?”

 

There was a silence at the table, the clamour of the rest of the pub suddenly a million miles away, and everyone was looking rather troubled.  

 

“Look, let’s forget about it for now,” said Fred uneasily. “It’s Christmas Eve for fuck’s sake--let’s play a drinking game. How about Snapdragon? James?”

 

“Good idea,” James agreed, draining the rest of his glass. “C’mon dickheads, let’s play.”

 

And, because it was James, they did.

 

* * *

 

It was past midnight. Closer to two in the morning, actually. The snow was falling much heavier now and the five of them had finally been kicked out of the Leaky Cauldron. As they spilled out onto the pavement the ghostly ring of O Come, All Ye Faithful could be heard from a nearby church and it was the only time Fred had ever seen Tottenham Court Road deserted. 

 

“So,” said James, grinning, “who’s going to get into the most shit when we get back?”

 

Aaron snorted. His arm was around Alex’s shoulder and his smile was bitter. “I’ll be fine, mate. No one will’ve even realised I’m gone. I reckon you and Morgan here are the ones in the shitter.”

 

James pulled a face. “God, you’re right. Congratulations, Aaron, you’ve got yourself a lodger for the night.” 

 

Fred laughed--he had seen this coming ever since James had sullenly announced that Aaron wasn’t allowed to stay with them for Christmas. He loved his uncle but really Harry should have known better if he thought that they would ever leave Aaron by himself on Christmas Eve. 

 

“I think you’ll find that lodgers  _ pay _ , Jim,” Aaron was saying, but he didn’t look particularly put out as he turned to the others. “Alright, what’s everyone else doing?” Fred watched him glance at Sarah and take in her dishevelled appearance, and wasn’t a bit fooled when he added casually, “Hey, you live a hell of a way from town, don’t you, Flynn? Wanna crash at mine too? James is an awful drunk. You can keep me company when he falls asleep over the toilet.”

 

“Yeah, why not,” Sarah agreed, and, looking pleased, James slung an arm around her other shoulder.  

 

“Just you wait, Flynn,” he grinned. “Aaron’s place is over an hours walk away. Think of all the trouble we can get into on the way…” 

 

“Oh, you three are going to end up in Azkaban tonight,” Alex moaned.

 

“Always the pessimist, Morgan,” lamented Aaron. Privately Fred was of Alex’s opinion; the sight of James, Aaron, and Sarah all standing there with identical impish, slightly intoxicated smiles was enough to send shivers down even the strongest of spines. “So assuming you  _ don’t  _ want to join us on our fantastic adventure to Peckham--”

 

“I really don’t...”

 

“--how are you gonna get home?”

 

“I’ll Apparate her home,” Fred volunteered, and to his surprise she seemed perfectly happy with that suggestion. 

 

“Excellent.” Aaron lunged for Alex and picked her up, spinning her around whilst she squealed with laughter. “Merry Christmas, Morgan. Don’t let the esteemed Fawleys get  you down, yeah?”

 

Sarah shoved him aside and engulfed her in a hug too, and Alex whispered, “Thanks for forcing me here tonight.”

 

Sarah grinned; James knocked her shoulder. “Hey, good luck with that hangover, Morgan. Tequila’s a real bitch.”

 

And those three ran down the street, Sarah bent over laughting as they went, and Fred was left with Alex. Her face was tilted up towards the sky, a small smile playing across her mouth, and she looked so peaceful that he almost considered leaving her so as not to spoil the moment.

 

But then she spoke, and if Alexandra Clarissa Morgan was speaking to him then he’d be damned if he was going anywhere. 

 

“They’ve got better, haven’t they,” she said, looking at James and Aaron’s retreating backs with something resembling fondness. “They still spend most of their time in detention and goofing off but… they’re nicer. They don’t bully students anymore, their pranks don’t embarrass people now, and they’re the only ones at school that’ll actually  _ stand up  _ to Tiberius.” She turned her gaze to Fred. “I’m sorry. There’s been times where I’ve been too harsh, or when I’ve been in a bad mood and taken it out on you. I know I’ve been awful.” 

 

God,  _ of course  _ she was apologising. They were the ones who had been acting like knobs for five years and now  _ she  _ was apologising to  _ them _ .  

 

“You haven’t,” he said. “Been awful, I mean. We were twats and we deserved it, and it was good that someone actually told us that. James and Aaron… unless they’re going out of their way to make people hate them like Evermonde or King, they’re used to everyone loving them. I think they  _ needed  _ someone to tell them when they take it too far who they actually respect.”

 

Alex smiled a bit at that. “Respect from James Potter and Aaron Peters? I think I’ll put that on my CV.” She stuck out her hand. “Well, I never thought I’d say this, Fred, but… friends?” 

 

He should have just taken her hand and silently celebrated the fact that after over five years of dislike she finally liked him, even if it was just as a friend. As it was, he blurted out: “But won't King be angry if he finds out we’re friends?”

 

The smile slipped, and an unhappy look darkened an otherwise beautiful face. 

 

“Honestly? I don’t  _ care _ . I’m tired of people telling me who I should or shouldn’t be friends with. I’ve got a brain to be able to decide for myself, you know? My family have done it for years, and then Grace, and now Henry. If it’s not  _ too  _ much to ask, I’d like to have some friends who don’t burst a blood vessel every time I blow my bloody nose.”   

 

So it was all Fred could do to smile and nod, and not act too flustered when their hands touched.

 

“Can we stay here for a bit?” she asked, gesturing towards a bench a few feet away. “James has got a point, you know. I’m in for a  _ world _ of trouble when I get home and I’d rather put that off while I still can.”

 

“You want me to stay with you?”

 

She looked surprised. “Of course. I mean, obviously you don’t have to, I’m sure that you’d rather be at home--” 

 

“No, I’ll stay,” he said at once. As if there was anywhere else he’d rather be.

 

“I was talking to Balthazar Selwyn tonight,” she said once they’d sat down, and for some reason she looked slightly guilty. “You know, Isaac’s grandfather. He told me that Aaron’s father died when he was young. Is that true?”

 

“Oh,” said Fred. “Yeah. That’s true. Happened a few years before he went to Hogwarts. Car crash.”

 

Alex nodded, staring at the shop across the street. “That’s why he acts the way he does, I think. I’ve always wondered. Because he’s not actually an arsehole, is he? I know he tries to be, God knows why, always acting like he couldn’t give a toss about anything or anyone… But he does. That’s the thing. No matter how hard he tries to hide it he  _ does  _ care. He wouldn’t have helped catch Rigby and Selwyn back in October if he didn’t, or invited Sarah back to his tonight.”

 

The astuteness was astounding. He had really never met anyone quite like her. 

 

“Don’t tell anyone,” he said. “About his dad, I mean. He’s private about stuff like that, he doesn’t like talking about it. Me and James didn’t even know about it until second year.”

 

“I won’t.”

 

“He pretty much raised himself, you know. After his dad. His mum had to work all the time to keep them going, and he’s got two older brothers but they’re more fend-for-yourself types. He was only seven when it happened and there was no one around to tell him  _ not  _ to do things. I know how he can be and I’m not defending anything that he’s done, but honestly I just don’t think he realises that there’s such a thing as limitations. He can be a dick, I  _ know  _ that but… he’s a good person. I wouldn’t be his mate if he wasn’t.”

 

“No, you wouldn’t, would you?” Alex mused. “I get that now. I didn’t before. Grace idolises him, Henry thinks he’s the devil, and I’ve always just thought that he was an immature idiot with an ego the size of Hogwarts.”

 

Fred laughed. “Well, you weren’t exactly  _ wrong _ .”

 

She let out a chuckle too. “Maya doesn’t like him, does she?”

 

“Maya doesn’t like any of us. Thinks we take up too much of James’s time. Hell, I don’t think she likes  _ James  _ half the time.”

 

“Then why does she stick with him?”

 

“Come on. You’ve  _ met  _ James. Sure, half the time he’d rather be with us and parrs her off, but when he puts in the effort... it only takes about ten seconds before people fall in love with him. Just a smile and they’ll do whatever the hell he wants. From what I’ve seen people would rather have an iota of his attention than none at all.”

 

It was only Fred Weasley who could say all that without the single trace of bitterness in his voice. 

 

There was a pause as Alex took in what he had said and then she nodded. “Yeah, I get that. I think that’s why Henry hates him so much. Does Maya get on with Vera at least?”

 

“ _ Everyone  _ gets on with Vera.”

 

“True. How are things going with you two anyway?”

 

The honest answer was that the next time he saw Vera he would have to break up with her. Not because he was in love with Alex Morgan (although he was) or because he thought that maybe he had a chance with her (because he was optimistic but not foolish). It was because he just didn’t have it in him to string along a girl when he felt  _ that  _ way about another. 

 

“It’s going alright,” was what he actually said. “I like her. She’s passed James and Aaron’s inspection for now, and I reckon my family would like her too.”

 

Alex nodded. If she knew that he was lying she didn’t let it show. Instead she asked,” So will your parents be angry that you’ve stayed out all night?” 

 

He laughed. “Full of questions tonight, aren’t you? Nah, my parents will be fine. Mine and James’s family are used to us running around on our own. Mum and Dad will try and play parent for a bit, but it won’t last long. To be honest, I think Dad secretly enjoys it when I get into trouble.” 

 

“Must be nice,” Alex mused, “having such easy-going parents. I’ve seen them on the platform before. They look really nice.” She paused, seemingly on the verge of revealing something, and then it spilled out: “I think my parents are involved with Evermonde.”

 

So did Fred, but he didn’t say it.

 

“My father’s always either at work or having meetings with people in his study. Arnold Clements, Sandor Birch, they keep on coming over, and if James is right and they’re involved in all of this too… And then everything my grandfather was saying earlier as well... I don’t want to have to choose between my family and what I think is right. Before all this I just assumed that the two went hand in hand.”

 

“It might not come to that…”

 

“You don’t believe that. And neither do I. God, Fred, I’m scared. Are you?”

 

She certainly looked scared. Her eyes were big and full of apprehension, and her usual friendly smile was gone replaced instead with a tight frown. “Yeah,” he said, his voice catching as he admitted what he never would to James or Aaron. “Yeah, I’m scared.” 

 

They sat there together for a long time, hands entwined, sharing  _ something  _ even though neither knew quite what. The snow continued to fall, the echoes of O Come All, Ye Faithful could still be heard from the nearby church, and when it reached three Alex looked at her watch and said reluctantly, “I suppose I’d better go. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mum and Dad have called the Aurors by now.”

 

“I think getting arrested for kidnapping you would put a bit of a damper on Christmas Day,” Fred agreed and, laughing, they got to their feet. Alex tilted her head up again and let the snow fall on her face, a small smile on her face despite the looming prospect of returning to the Fawley’s wrath.

 

Her hand was still in his.

 

“Merry Christmas, Fred.” 

 

He smiled down at her. “Merry Christmas, Alex.” 

 

 

**A/N: Thank you SO much to everyone who’s reviewed, you have no idea how much I appreciate it. Also thanks to those who’ve pointed out grammatical errors and such, I’ll get right on those! Hope everyone enjoys the Christmas chapter just in time for December.**

 

**Next time - James and his family have a chat and some more Flynn family drama.**


End file.
